


Growing Daylight

by Mintyscakepups



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Because its indulgent and i enjoy writing it, Besides i need the practice, But implied nsfw, But sometimes i really like writing silly, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, F/M, Family, Fluff, I call this my junkfood fic, Its silly, Nothing explicit, Pregnancy, Will ad more tags as things develop, wattpad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintyscakepups/pseuds/Mintyscakepups
Summary: Set several years post the Eternal Night, as the trolls of New Trollmarket are still trying to find their footing in their new home. Ever-busy Trollhunters, Jim and Claire, find themselves on the receiving end of another one of fate's surprise curve balls- just when they were starting to figure out how to manage their mountain of responsibilities.





	1. Chapter 1

Claire woke with a start, the violent wave of nausea that gripped her stomach intense enough to make the room shift. Her body had been generous enough to give her a window of just a handful of seconds to launch herself from bed and bolt across the room with a speed she would have to be proud of later.

Her half-troll beloved who, ironically enough, normally slept like a rock, was roused by the sudden commotion. Jim blinked slowly, casting his bleary gaze around the room. Brain still sluggish from sleep, his eyes trailed from Claire’s vacated half of the bed, towards the utterly unmistakable sounds of retching coming from the other room.

He rolled out of their low-to-the-ground bed and padded on all fours toward the bathroom. He entered the living room and nearly jumped out of his skin when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, somewhere in the dark.

Realizing it was only his best friend, sitting up from where he had fallen asleep on their couch, Jim sat back on his haunches with a relieved sigh.

Toby, who was visiting the couple for a few days and, by association, New Jersey Trollmarket, swiped his phone from the coffee table and nearly blinded Jim with its flashlight.

“Was that _Claire_ that just came busting up out of your room?” he asked incredulously, shifting his phone so that the light shone somewhere other than Jim’s light-sensitive eyes.

“Yeah, man,” Jim managed through a yawn, trying to smooth his raised hackles back down with his palms. “Who else would it be?”

Toby made an expansive gesture around his head with his hands. “I don’t know, all I saw was something _fast_ and _hairy_ go running off into the dark-”

He stopped, finally catching onto the sounds of heaving from the bathroom that the quick and wild-haired Claire had fled to.

“Oh, that sounds _gross_ ,” Toby remarked.

“Claire?” Jim called, rising on two legs and approaching the cracked bathroom door. “You ok?”

He pushed against the door and discovered Claire on her knees in front of the toilet, her elbows on the seat and her face cradled in her hands. Her thick and difficult-to-tame hair, free of the hairpins she wore during the day, was sticking every which way.

She groaned, sounding so miserable it broke his heart. “Am I dying,” she croaked weakly. “Is this what dying feels like?”

“I think it’d take more than a stomach bug to kill off Claire Nuñez,” Toby commented, appearing beside Jim in the doorway. “But, to be fair, I haven’t seen you like this since your 21st birthday.”

Claire turned her head to glower at him.

“Don’t look at me like that- you and Darci were a _mess,"_  Toby said. “I was stuck holding back your hair, Darci’s hair _and_ trying to keep Mary from running off and doing whatever the hell Drunk Mary does when she doesn’t have a handler.”

“Still sort of glad I missed that one,” Jim murmured.

“You should be. I wish I could have missed it. But I stuck being the responsible one. _Me_ , Jimbo.”

“ _G_ _uuuuyyyyss…_ ” Claire pleaded from the toilet, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Can we not right now?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take hair duty- _again_ ,” Toby moved to kneel beside Claire, but hesitated as he reached for her hair. “It’s not gonna, like, eat me or anything if I touch it, right?”

That earned him what was an impressively solid right hook to the shoulder, given Claire’s condition.

Jim strode to the sink and grabbed a washcloth. He ran it under cool water and crouched down at Claire’s other side. He placed the damp cloth over the back of her neck and began rubbing small, soothing circles between her shoulder blades.

The three of them stayed just like that for the several minutes it took for Claire’s nausea to pass and her vomiting to stop.

Claire reached up to flush the toilet and moaned miserably. She leaned against Jim’s leg as she tried to steady her breathing and his hand came up, almost automatically, to run his palm over the crown of her head.

“Can you guys give me a minute?” Claire asked weakly, shifting the washcloth from the back of her neck to pat it along her collarbone.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Jim offered.

“Just some water,” Claire responded appreciatively.

They left Claire to clean herself up and Toby followed Jim into the kitchen.

“Wonder what made her so sick,” Toby mused aloud, watching Jim pull a cup from the shelves.

“You don’t think it was dinner, do you?” Jim asked, concerned. He set the cup down on the counter, momentarily abandoning his task to reach for the produce he had used to prepare their food and give it a cautious sniff.

“You and I aren’t vomiting our guts out right now,” Toby pointed out. He reached across the counter to flip the lid off of a crystal lamp, flooding the room with soft, warm light. Jim could navigate in the dark just fine, but the still very human Toby could not.

“Yeah, but nothing really makes me sick anymore,” Jim said, setting the produce back down to return to his original task. “And I’ve seen _you_ put away things that would kill any mortal man. Most of them being of the burrito variety, but still.”

The bathroom door creaked open and Claire emerged. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it with a wince. She slid into a sitting position on the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, still looking pretty miserable.

Jim padded across the room to kneel beside her and passed her the cup he’d filled.

“Thanks,” she croaked and took a tentative sip.

“Feeling any better?” Toby asked, moving to stand at Jim’s shoulder.

“Sort of?” Claire shrugged and took another sip of her water. “Just tired now.”

“Do you want to go back to bed?” Jim asked, accepting the partially filled cup she pushed into his hands.

She nodded weakly and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

Jim passed the cup off to Toby and scooped Claire up off of the floor. Toby wished them both a good night and they all returned to their interrupted slumbers.

* * *

 

“Claire, if you’re still feeling that bad, _go back to bed._ ”

Claire, having been leaning preemptively over a bucket situated on the floor between her knees, looked up to glare at Toby. Only her face from the nose up was visible over the table between them.

“I’m fine, I just… need a minute,” she growled back at him.

Toby rolled his eyes and lowered his phone, mid-text to Darci, to fix her with a look.

Jim and he had tried not to wake her, assuming she would want to extra time to sleep in after the night before. But Claire had still come strolling down the stairs from their apartment above Blinky’s library not even an hour after they’d left, ready to work as usual-

-Only to immediately need to take a seat at the table, accompanied by one of the empty water buckets from a nearby corner.

“Seriously,” Toby began. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. You look like you feel terrible-”

“Wow, thanks.”

“-And if Jim were here,” Toby continued, ignoring her comment, “he’d be the mom friend that tells you to rest up. Which means, in his absence, one of us needs to take over as the responsible one and, frankly, you’re not stepping up to the plate, Nuñez.”

“Stepping on… plates?” Aaarrrgghh’s low rumble followed him through the doorway as he entered the library. In tow, he pushed a wagon full of various tomes and artifacts salvaged from the most recent sweep of the ruined Arcadia Trollmarket.

“Figure of speech, wingman.”

“Where’s Jim?” Claire asked, noting her boyfriend’s absence.

“Keeping peace,” Aaarrrgghh responded as he wheeled his wagon around the table, offering Toby a fist bump in passing. “Blinky helping.”

He put the wagon down and set about searching for places on the packed shelves to store its contents. They’d need to start building on more shelves before much longer.

“Was there _another_ fight?” Claire asked with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “I swear, the sooner the forge is up and running, the sooner-” She was interrupted by an involuntary dry heave and slapped her hands over her mouth, quickly turning to hover back over her bucket.

Nothing happened for several moments and, when she was convinced nothing would happen, Claire turned back to the table. Toby was staring at her, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Claire insisted venomously.

Behind him, Aaarrrgghh had fixed his worried green eyes on her and rumbled with concern.

“I’m fine, big guy,” she assured, tone significantly softer when addressing the troll. “Just a bug or something.”

“Bugs?” the krubera loped toward her, nostrils flaring as he took a tentative sniff of her shoulder. He looked confused. “Not bugs. But smells… different.”

“Yeah, because she’s sick,” Toby proclaimed with an insistent jab in Claire’s direction.

“Not sick,” Aaarrrgghh corrected with a shake of his shaggy head. “But… different.” He sniffed her again and snorted, breath tousling her hair. He fell back onto his haunches and tilted his head, nonplussed.

“What do you mean by _different_?” Claire asked, exchanging a look with Toby across the table.

“Don’t know,” the big troll responded, at a loss. “Very unusual. Like Claire, but not. Different.”

It took Toby only a fraction of a second to decipher the worried look in Claire’s eyes.

“C’mon, wingman,” he leaned over to give Aaarrrgghh’s forearm a playful slap. “I know we’re not used to being around Claire anymore, but you don’t have to freak her out just because she changed soaps or something.”

Aaarrrgghh lowered his head, ears drooping and expression apologetic. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, big guy,” Claire assured, but she looked distracted.

* * *

 

Construction of the forge was well underway, and had been going strong for several months.

When they had initially discovered the New Jersey heartstone, it had only stood a dozen feet tall and, while the Trollmarket population had been reduced considerably, it had not been near large enough to do anyone any good- and still kind of wasn’t, nearly a decade later.

The forge had been sitting near the bottom of the to-do list for a long time, set aside for more important projects: acquiring food sources and building up their livestock, constructing homes, pathways, a safe passageway for salvage crews to venture up top, and so on and so forth.

With a heartstone too weak to draw energy from and only a few dozen trolls, all of which were weary from months of travel, construction of any kind had been understandably slow.

Interest in seeing the forge completed had been recently renewed as many of the particularly battle-starved trolls were becoming restless and aggressive.

And restless, aggressive trolls had a tendency to start brawls over pretty much anything.

But rebuilding a huge construct from the ground up, especially with only a handful of trolls remaining who could even sort of remember how to build it, was proving particularly difficult.

And it was, for that reason, Jim found himself standing atop a raised platform that no one could figure out how to lower again.

Jim scratched his head, puzzled. He stamped an armored foot, as if that would be enough to compromise the integrity of the platform and force it back down.

He could hear Blinky, several stories below, grumbling to himself at the command console, fiddling with levers and buttons and trying to get _something_ to work as it was supposed to.

Jim glanced up at the large blades hanging from the ceiling, dangling just above his horns. In theory, they were designed to swing menacingly back and forth, a challenging obstacle for a well-trained warrior. But, at the moment, they were frozen in place, all at various stages of their telegraphed paths.

The Trollhunter moved to the edge of the platform and peered down at his mentor.

“Any luck?” He called down.

“No, none as of yet,” came the perturbed response. Blinky struck a lever, probably harder than was necessary, and huffed in frustration when nothing happened. “Oh, blast it all! This was running just fine the other day.”

“ _Whoa!"_

Ears swiveling toward the source of the outburst, Jim turned his head and spotted Toby, Claire and Aaarrrgghh entering the would-be forge.

“Last time I was here, you guys had barely broken ground,” Toby remarked, marveling at the out-of-order platforms, pendulums, and other dangerous and sharp objects. “Now it’s actually starting to look like a forge.”

“And it would act like one too,” Jim commented, jumping down to the ground. “If we could figure out what was wrong with it.”

“What happened?” Claire asked, hopping up to sit along a nearby ledge, seemingly unbothered by the sheer drop at her back.

Jim shrugged. “We were running tests and it just kinda… noped out.”

Aaarrrgghh approached Claire’s ledge and peered down toward the gears beneath their feet. Claire grabbed a fistful of his shaggy fur to steady herself and looked down, not sure what she was searching for, but curious enough to look too.

“Probably jammed,” the krubera suggested.

“I can climb down and look,” Jim offered, moving to the ledge and gazing down too. His brows leapt toward his hairline in surprise. “That… actually goes a lot further down than I expected it to.”

Toby popped up beside him and whistled, impressed. He raised his phone and snapped a quick picture.

Without warning, the gears suddenly roared to life, too loud and moving much too quickly than they were designed to. The four gathered around the ledge cried out and quickly grabbed onto whatever was available to steady themselves as the ground rumbled and rolled beathed their feet.

The obstacles and platforms retracted all at once and, after only a few moments, everything fell still and silent once again.

“Everyone ok?” Jim asked after a tense second. Wide-eyed and still recovering from the sudden commotion, his friends gave him a collective nod of affirmation. He looked over at Blinky, who was just as frazzled as the others. “What did you do?”

“I…” Blinky blinked his six eyes and regarded the console with uncertainty. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

“Maybe we should call it here,” Jim suggested, removing his amulet and dismissing his armor. He rolled his shoulders, wincing. “We’ve been trying to figure this thing out all morning.”

“I like the sound of that,” Toby said. “I’ve been stuck with a vomitty Claire and a _s much fun as that is-_ ” he blatantly ignored Claire’s glare, “-It'd be cool to see whatever else you guys built while I was gone.”

Jim looked at Claire, brow furrowed. Sitting on the ledge, she was nearly eye level with him. “Are you still feeling sick?”

Claire waved dismissively. “I’m fine- Toby’s exaggerating. I was just feeling a little nauseous this morning-”

“ _All_ morning,” Toby mumbled.

“Keep it up and we’re not showing you the gyre station,” Claire warned.

Toby pressed his lips together. He crossed his arms and hummed in annoyance, but didn’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought.” Claire hopped down to the ground. She cried out in surprise, suddenly losing her footing and grasping at the ledge.

Aaarrrgghh caught her before she fell and gently helped her back onto her feet. “Careful.”

“Are you ok?” Jim asked, alarmed.

“I’m fine,” Claire assured quickly, pressing her fingertips to her temple with a wince. “I must’ve got up too quickly- just a little dizzy.”

“You sure? Maybe you should take it easy-”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” Claire said, taking Jim’s hand and giving him a reassuring smile. She shifted her gaze to Toby as he opened his mouth to speak and she raised her finger warningly. “ _D_ _on’t._ ”

* * *

 

Toby was roused from sleep by the sound of Jim’s quiet soothing and Claire’s pitiful moans of discomfort. He had been sleeping in their spare room and managed to completely miss her mad dash for the toilet.

For the third night in a row, he found Claire in a familiar position in front of the toilet. Jim was at her side, trying to hold her disheveled hair out of her face. He looked up and the two exchanged a worried look before Toby dropped to her other side and began rubbing her back.

Just like the nights before, they stayed with her until she felt better, provided her with water when she was finished and everyone went back to sleep for the night.

* * *

 

“It’s called _adventure_ , Claire. You love _adventure_.”

“I mean, yeah, _actual_ adventure. But I don’t find convenience stores particularly adventurous.” Claire examined the contents of a nearby shelf; sugary snacks decorated with cutesy cartoon characters and bold fonts.

Feeling unusually peckish, she grabbed a bag of chips.

“Adventure is what you make of it,” Toby countered, breezing through the snack aisle and into the vitamins. “You can have an adventure anywhere.”

Claire hummed, unconvinced. She grabbed a pack of band-aids as she passed into the pharmacy section, having remembered that the first aid kit at home was running low; not every cut and scrape needed a magical solution.

“Why did you want me to come again?”

“Mostly because you’re the only one of us with a car,” Toby answered frankly, stopping on the other side of the shelf. “And because I have a couple of _suspicions_.”

“Suspicions,” Claire parroted flatly, stopping to grab this and that before moving to stand next to her friend. “What kind of suspicions-”

She came to a screeching halt when she realized what aisle they were in.

“Oh my god,” she said, gaze roving over _so many_ varieties of condoms and lubes. “You _did not_ seriously drag me here so you can get something for you and Darci.”

“I mean, not _exactly_ -”

“Oh. My. _God_.” Claire pressed her fingertips to her temples, mortified. She about-faced and fled for the safety of the snack aisle, trying to scrub her brain of any intrusive mental images.

* * *

 

Holding one of the convenience store bags behind his back, Toby approached Claire and looked up at her expectantly. “Wanna see what I got?”

She was seated at the counter, her treasure trove of forget-about-the-bad-thoughts snacks laid out before her.

“No,” Claire deadpanned, tearing open a bag of chips. “Not even a little.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “It’s seriously not what you think it is,” he assured. “At least not in this one. Don’t look in the other bag.”

Claire was too afraid of the truth to even try to figure out if that was a joke or not.

“No problem.” She bit into a chip with a satisfying crunch and looked over at him, not able to completely mask her piqued curiosity. She sighed. “Ok, what’s in the bag?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” She heard the crinkle of plastic as Toby removed something from the bag and presented it to her. “Now, _hear me out_ before you start _freaking out_ -”

Claire’s eyes widened as she read the words on the package. “ _Pregnancy tests?"_

“I said _hear me out!_ ”

“Why _in the world_  did you get _pregnancy tests_?” Claire asked, incredulous.

“You know exactly why I got you _pregnancy tests_ ,” Toby said, mimicking her cadence. “You’ve been puking your guts out for days now.”

“Oh, come on, TP.” Claire rolled her eyes. “I’ve just been a little sick. It doesn’t mean I’m _pregnant._ ”

“ _A little sick?_  Nuñez, you’ve been hugging the toilet every night since I rolled into town.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Claire insisted. “Some nausea and vomiting is not a definitive sign of anything.”

“But it can be a symptom,” Toby countered. “Come on, Claire. You’ve been this sick and you still haven’t gone to see a doctor- you _have_ to know something is up.”

“It’s just a bug.” Claire rolled the top of her chip bag and set it aside, already feeling her stomach beginning to protest. “It’ll pass on it’s own.”

Toby snorted. “Seriously? You still think this is a bug?”

“It has to be a bug, Toby,” Claire snapped turning in her stool to face him, “because what you're suggesting _can't_ be possible and the only other alternative is not exactly something I want to even _think_ about right now.”

There was a hint of something in her eyes, something he hadn't seen in so long that it took Toby a second to recognize it; a tiny, but noticeable inkling of fear.

And, just as he had guessed several days prior, in the comfort of Blinky's crowded library, he realized what concern was itching in the back of her mind.

Toby exhaled. “You really think it's more likely Morgana found her way back into your head than that you might be pregnant?”

Claire was quiet for a moment, internally debating how she was coming off; in denial, too paranoid, or both?

“Kind of,” she allowed. “I know it sounds crazy-”

“No,” Toby said, taking a seat beside her. “It really doesn't.” He sat the box on the counter and Claire's gaze fixed on it immediately, wary. “Why does that seem like more of a possibility to you?”  
  
“Because…” Claire sighed, fiddling with her forelock.  
  
The white streak she had developed in high school had spread, engulfing the entirety of her bangs. No matter how many times she tried to dye it out, the color would never stick. While the implications of what that might mean bothered her, Jim had assured her he thought it was “cute” and that had worked to dispelled her concerns- at least in the moment.  
  
“...We're not even sure if- I mean, _logically_ , it can't be possible to-” she huffed, frustrated. “I love Jim, you _know_ I do-” she looked to Toby for clarification and he gave a small nod in response. “But we're so… different. He's half troll and has been for a long time now and probably always will be-”

“At least according to a certain AWOL wizard,” Toby couldn't help but interject.

“-At least according to a certain AWOL wizard,” Claire agreed. “But with him being both half-human and half-troll, we can't be all that…” she rolled her wrist, searching for the word. “ _Compatible_ anymore. Like, genetically speaking."

Toby's brows knitted suspiciously. “Have… have you guys not been using…?” he trailed off meaningfully.

“No, of course we have,” Claire confirmed quickly. “But it's always been more like we use it because we were always _taught_ to and less that we think we're actually _preventing_ anything, you know?”

“...Surprisingly, that doesn't actually convince me you've both been playing it safe.”

“ _We have, Toby_.”

“So, then, you think _magic_ \- this mystical, mysterious _thing_ we still barely understand- altered his DNA that extremely? That Jimbo's, what, _sterile_?”

“I don’t know, TP- that’s the point,” Claire said. “Merlin never told us anything, but it’s not like he ever does anyway. But, I mean, it would make sense, wouldn’t it? Troll and human reproduction is so insanely different, what _wouldn’t_ make sense is _this_ even being possible.”

“Claire,” Toby began, “It’s _magic_. _It_ doesn’t make sense. We still barely know how it works; we’ve both seen it do some _insane_ things, but you know it has a million and one limitations too. _It’s magic!_ Nothing is off the table.”

Claire sighed, growing quiet for a moment. She reached out and picked up the small box from the counter, handling it as if it were made of glass.

“Aaarrrgghh said I smell different,” she said. “‘Like Claire but not.’”

“C’mon, he didn’t mean anything by it,” Toby insisted. “How many pregnant humans do you think he’s been around? Closest thing was probably a cow or something, but that doesn’t count. Cows don’t count.”

“Like Claire, but _not_.” She repeated, brows knitted.

“He couldn’t smell Morgana on you before,” Toby pointed out. “This is something else. Something _different_.”

Claire looked unconvinced and studied the box in her hands.

“...If I do this, will you drop it?”

Toby grinned. “Promise.”

She paused. “What if it’s negative?"

“Then you can you can give me a big fat ‘I told you so,’ Jim will make you some soup or something and we can pretend this conversation never even happened.”

“...What if it’s positive?” She asked, more quietly.

Toby shrugged. “Listen, much as I would love to, I don’t have all the answers. But I can totally help you figure it out. I mean, it’s not like you’re alone in this; you’ve got me, Jimbo of course, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh-”

“ _And me too, Claire-Bear!_ ”

Claire jumped at the third voice, her attention snapping to Toby’s phone, where he had placed it on the counter. Before he could stop her, she snatched it up and stared incredulously at the grinning face of one of one of her best friends as it filled the screen.

“What-? _Darci_? Why-” She looked at Toby, who was trying to feign innocence. “ _Tobias_!”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t full name me!” He raised his hands defensively. “This is an important milestone, Darce would have killed me if she wasn’t a part of it.”

Claire, her steely gaze not leaving his sheepish face, popped open the box, grabbed one of the tests and headed for the bathroom.

“Wait, wait,” Toby grabbed the box and started after her, “I know you- you won’t believe the results if you don’t take more than one!”

* * *

 

When Jim came home from making his rounds through Trollmarket, he found Claire, sitting by herself on the couch. She seemed lost in thought, plucking absentmindedly at her lip as she sat in front of the flickering static of the TV screen.

“Hey,” Jim called, snapping her out of it.

She jumped, seeming to not even realize the TV had been on as she grabbed for the remote.

“Where’s Tobes?” Jim asked, noting his best friend’s absence. He moved to stand behind her and leaned into the back of the couch. “I didn’t see him or Aaarrrgghh downstairs.”

Claire tilted her head back to stare up at him. “They’re at the pub with Blinky. So it’s, uh, just you and me.” She shot him a forced, everything's-totally-fine smile and drummed her fingers anxiously on her knee.

Jim regarded her curiously. “Ok, soooo, did you want to go meet up with them, or…?”

“Actually, I kind of wanted to hang out here,” she said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Just the two of us, you know?”

“I mean, that’s cool and everything,” Jim began cautiously, growing suspicious of her unusual behavior. “But Tobes and Aaarrrgghh are leaving for Arcadia tomorrow. Don’t you think we should maybe spend the night with them before they go?”

Claire seemed at a loss for a moment. “Yeah- yeah, of course! But, um,” she turned to face him on the couch and rose onto her knees. “I, uh, was wanting to talk to you for a sec? Really quick, maybe?”

“Uh, ok.” Jim leaned down, resting his elbows against the back of the couch and crossing his arms so that they were near eye level. “What, er, what’s up?”

Claire plucked at a loose couch thread as she thought. “I… I might have learned something… really interesting today.”

“...Interesting how?” Jim proceeded cautiously.

“Like, really… really interesting.”

“...Claire, you're... really starting to freak me out.” Jim admitted, eyes wary. “What's going on?”

She sighed, defeated. "Yeah, ok. Just... let me show you something.”

She slipped over the back of the couch and headed into the kitchen.  Jim trailed after her, intrigued. She stopped at the counter and looked up at him expectantly.

Jim's gaze fell over the three white sticks lined up on the countertop and, after exchanging a confused glance with Claire, reached over to pick one up for inspection.

The instructions beside the test window were perfectly crystal clear, “two lines equal pregnant.” But when he counted the pair of lines inside the tiny window, his brain turned to static, incapable of piecing together what this meant, or why these three tests shared identical results.

“This was the first one,” Claire explained, pointing at one of the other tests. “I thought it was a false positive so I took another… and then another.”

Jim dragged his gaze from the test in his hand and stared at her blankly. The gears in his head were still chugging along. “So, wait… you're…?”

“Yeah,” she took a steadying breath. “I'm pregnant.”

“You're… really…?”

“Pregnant.” Claire finished for him.

“Pregnant.” He repeated, staring down at her with glazed eyes. “How… how did this…?”

Claire hit him with the most noncommittal jazz hands he'd ever seen. “ _Magic_ ,” she responded, trying the best she could not to appear like she was freaking out internally.

Which they both very much were.

“...I also would have accepted the whole ‘when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much’ spiel.” Jim said, smirking despite himself.

Claire laughed, relieved to see some of his humor returning. “Maybe next time.”

Jim regarded her for a moment and Claire opened her mouth to speak, but the next thing she knew she was being engulfed by his arms. He held her to him, his hold firm but, as always, carefully restrained.

He buried his face into her shoulder and breathed in deeply. She thought she could hear the nervous thundering of his heartbeat as she coiled her arms around his waist.

“You're…” he began incredulous.

“Pregnant.” She finished yet again, amused by his reaction.

“Yeah… that.” He paused, trying to take all this in. He barely noticed when her fingers found their way into the scruff on the back of his neck."I didn't think... I thought, with the potion, we wouldn't be able to..."

"Nothing's off the table when it comes to magic." Claire responded, mind still reeling.

She ran her fingers through his hair- or fur? It was still up for debate; they hadn't decided yet. The repetitive motion was quickly working to soothe them both, quieting their loud, anxious thoughts and allowing them a moment to actually think instead of panic.

They stayed that way for a long while, just drinking in the significance of what this all meant for them.

"What do we do now?" Jim asked, at a loss. Because, what were they supposed to do now, both in the moment and later on?

"...I guess we'll figure it out."


	2. Chapter 2

“Yeah, everything’s been ok,” Jim switched his phone to his other ear and stepped over the exposed root that extended over his path. “We’ve got the forge pretty much up and running, still need to tweak a few things, but yeah. Uh, work on the gyre station’s… well, going.”

“ _No progress yet_?” Barbara asked. Her tone was pleasantly calm, but Jim knew her well enough to pick up on it’s hopeful edge.

He heard a pan clang onto the stove top from her end of the line and wondered, with her hectic schedule, which meal of the day this was for her.

“No, not yet,” Jim sighed, hating that he couldn’t provide her with a better status update. “We’ve worked on a few prototypes, most of which exploded a little bit.”

There just weren’t many troll left in Trollmarket with the knowledge to build these things from the bottom up, after all.

“ _Oh, just a little, huh_?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jim grinned, stopped below a particularly large tree and gazed upward. “Wasn’t even a big one. Very underwhelming. I’d give it a 3 out 10, but it’d be a very generous 3.”

“ _You should be more supportive of your explosions, honey._ ” Barbara countered.

“I am! I gave it a very _generous_ 3, mother.”

Jim launched himself effortlessly into the tree and settled into a crouch on one of the higher branches, one thick enough to support his weight and to give him a pleasant view over the forest.

“We’ve got the station built and the tunnels cleared and everything, it’s the actual gyre part that we’re stuck on. Blinky thinks we can maybe figure out how to salvage the one we left behind in Arcadia, but that’s weeks worth of traveling if we send a couple of the faster trolls. And several more weeks back if they can’t fix it there and have to transport it but, eh,” he shrugged dismissively and leaned back against the tree. The wind picked up, tousling his hair and rattling the leaves around him. “We’ll work it out somehow.”

“ _It would be nice to be able to pop on over before the baby comes_ ,” Barbara commented wistfully. “ _Or whenever, honestly_.”

She dropped something into her pan and Jim heard sizzling.

“Yeah, I know. I’d love to be able to see everyone more than a handful of times a year,” Jim agreed. “Maybe soon, though.”

“ _I miss you, kiddo_ ,” his mother said and Jim’s heart clenched with longing. “ _Everyone does. Even Walt, in his own way.”_

Jim swallowed. “I miss you too, Mom.”

He inhaled deeply, drinking in the smoky flavors of the forest at an attempt to clear the lump forming in his throat. The sliver of moon beamed down from above, peaking through the dark clouds overhead.

His thoughts drifted to Claire, of the nights they would come out here when they felt they needed to get away from it all, and, just as they had for the past few weeks, those idle thoughts were accompanied by a tidal wave of anxiety.

“ _How's Claire been doing_?” Barbara asked, right on cue, as if she could read his mind, both through the phone and thousands of miles away.

“She's been ok,” he allowed and started pacing along the branch. “Still puking her guts out most nights. But during the day she's usually fine, so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, not that she could see it.

“ _Any weird cravings yet_?”

“Not really, we’re having a hard enough time trying to find things she can even keep down. Although,” he bit back a laugh, “she told me that she's caught herself checking out our silverware a few times and wondering what it tastes like.”

“ _Uh oh. I don't think that's a craving she can satisfy_.”

Jim chuckled. “Maybe if she’s cool with losing a few teeth.”

Barbara made a sound on the other line as if she were about to speak, but was cut off immediately by the screeching of a fire alarm. The shrill cry was loud, enough so that Jim had to pull the phone away, his ears flattening against his head.

“ _Oh-_  shoot-” Jim snorted, amused she was still in the habit of censoring herself in front of her adult son, “ _One second, honey_.”

Jim set his phone against his shoulder and stared out over the rippling treetops.

He flicked his tongue against one of his tusks and wondered if his child would present the same trollish trait- or any trollish traits, for that matter. How hereditary was his troll half? Surely it was to some extent if Claire was having fork cravings of all things.

Of course, that could have been a joke on her part that he was over thinking.

Really, she should know better.

“- _Jim? You still there?_ ”

“Yeah,” he responded, snapping out of his thoughts, “Yeah, I'm here. Just distracted. Did you burn the house down?”

“ _Not this time. But the night’s still young_.”

“What's  _Waltolomew_  up to?” Jim asked with a smirk.

Barbara clucked her tongue, disapproving of his teasing tone. “ _You know he doesn't like you calling him that_.”

“Uh huh. Waltolomew’s doing ok?”

Barbara sighed. “ _Yes, he’s doing just fine_.”

“And he let you back into the kitchen, I see.”

“ _He's sleeping right now, actually_ ,” Barbara admitted. “ _At least he_ was _, if the alarm woke him up_.”

Jim gave a faux scandalized gasp. “Mother!”

“ _Hey, it’s_  my  _kitchen_ ,” she countered defensively. “ _If anyone’s banning anyone, it should be me… If I wanted to starve, anyway_ ,” she added more quietly.

 _"Alright so_ ,” he heard her clap her hands together on the other end. “ _Trollmarket's doing ok_?”

“Right.”

“ _Claire is also doing ok and wanting to eat silverware_.”

Jim chuckled. “Check and check.”

“ _How are_ you _doing_?”

“Me?” Jim chewed his lip thoughtfully. “I guess I'm ok too?”

“ _You guess_?”

“Yeah, for the most part. I’ve mostly just been doing a lot of working on the forge and the gyre- but mostly the forge. I can't really help with the technical stuff so it's been a lot of lifting and moving. Oh. And breaking up fights because a bunch of battle-hungry trolls haven't had their training grounds for a few years. But you know how that is,” he added with a playful lilt. “It's all just been… weirdly normal. Or, our brand of normal."

“ _Is normal weird_?” Barbara asked.

“No…” Jim said, running his palm over one of his horns. “Well, I mean, kind of . I don't know, I guess I always thought that having a baby would be this crazy, hectic, world overturning _thing_ , but everything's- for the most part- just been very… normal.”

He shifted his body to dangle a leg from the branch beneath him and swung it absentmindedly back and forth. “It's going to be the first kid born in the New Trollmarket, the first child of a half-troll- a technical miracle child - and nothing feels different. Just the same old, same old.”

“ _Oh, sweetie, it's still early_ ,” Barbra assured knowingly. “ _Mother nature's kind enough to give you a few months to prepare, but you're just getting started. Enjoy the calm before the storm while it lasts_.”

Jim sighed. “A part of me knows that, but there's this sense of…  _something_  about to go wrong that I can't shake.”

“ _That never goes away_ ,” Barbara said. “ _As a fellow parent I can confirm you live in a constant state of worrying something will go wrong at all times_.”

“Oh, good.” Jim commented flatly.

“ _No, I mean_ ,” Barbara sighed. “ _I mean, that's normal. It's normal to feel that way. It's a pre-parental parental instinct kicking in and it means if something ever does happen, you'll be ready to handle it_.”

Jim hummed, unconvinced. “I guess.”

“ _You and Claire have a lot on your plate right now, and a baby is guaranteed to make your life even crazier_ - _but if anyone can handle it, it’s you two_ ,” Barbara assured, as supportive as always. “ _I mean, you’ve both been essentially babysitting a bunch of trolls all this time, so you’re not exactly without practice.”_

“That’s a good point,” Jim snorted, amused. “Maybe a baby will be easier.”

“ _They’re definitely smaller_.” Barbara allowed. “ _You’ll be fine; you’re both going to be fantastic parents_.”

“I love you, mom.” Jim said thickly after a moment.

“ _I love you too, honey_ ,” She responded and he could hear the smile in her voice. “  _And if you two have any questions, you can always ask me- pre or post baby. If you need to know_ anything  _I'm always_ -”

There was a sudden  _fwoosh_ on the other line, so jarring it made Jim flinch. His brows leapt toward his hairline as he listened to Barbara's frantic scrambling.

“ _Shit_ -” Didn't catch yourself that time, mom, “ - _Now there's fire. Uh, I'll- I'll call you right back._ Walt- !”

The call ended abruptly and Jim regarded his phone with concern.

* * *

 

It was only well into her pregnancy- roughly around the 18 week mark- that Claire even began to show.

Jim noticed it suddenly one day, as she was getting ready to head out for her first ultrasound, no less.

He had been lounging on their couch, flipping through one of the stacks of pregnancy books they had stolen away from Blinky's library when he noticed.

She was standing in the bathroom, door into the living room open wide, while she set about pinning up her hair. Her arms were up and her slim figure was unobscured and he  _saw_  it; the slight, but noticeable curve in her lower abdomen. It was easy to miss, easy for someone who wasn’t half as familiar with her body as he was to completely overlook.

But it was there and, suddenly, that tiny discovery made everything feel so _real._

There was a baby in there. His baby-  _their_  baby. And  _how in the world_  was there a baby growing in that tiny space in her stomach?

He must have been marveling at the burgeoning bump for too long, when Claire spoke up.

“Jim the Trollhunter,” she began. “Bular slayer, Gunmar's bane, and watcher of girlfriends applying their lipstick.”

Their eyes met in the mirror and the smirk tugging at the corner of Claire's pursed lips as she capped her lipstick was infectious.

“Sorry,” Jim apologized, closing the book and sitting up. “Just zoned out.”

Claire stepped out of the bathroom and approached the couch. Jim tossed his book aside as she moved to sit down atop his outstretched legs and lean into his chest.

“Ok, so,” Claire began, tossing an arm around Jim's shoulders. “If I recall correctly, we should be able to find out the gender of the baby. And thus I've, officially, opened the betting the polls.”

Jim bit back a chuckle as, with a dramatic flair, she raised her phone to read.

“Mary, Darci and Toby have all placed their bets on us having a girl. Your mom and both of my parents are saying boy. And I  _tried_ to ask Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, but they were confused as to why gender mattered at all. And while I  _do_  agree with them-,”

“For sure.” Jim nodded, coiling his arms carefully around her waist.

“-The object of this game is completely lost on them and their votes will not be submitted at this time.” She looked at him expectantly. “What'll it be, Jimbo?”

“Boy.” Jim said, no second thought.

“You would,” Claire nudged him playfully, but tallied his vote. “I'll say girl.”

“ _You_  would.”

* * *

 

When they had told him about Claire's condition- or, rather, after Toby told him first and the Galadrigal had feigned surprise- Blinky had been absolutely overjoyed with the prospect and set about acquiring as much knowledge as he could about the subject from his favorite source of information; books. He'd gone with salvage crews to retrieve them, donned the glamour mask to visit bookstores and libraries up top; going to great lengths to ensure he knew as much about her condition as he could possibly learn.

Between her mother, Blinky, Barbara and the Arcadian Ob-Gyn she had recommended, Claire had no shortage of people to turn to when she had questions.

But, what they  _had_  run into, was an issue of distance. Seeing any local specialists was risky, as they had no way of knowing if their baby would develop any definitively trollish traits. The safer option was to continue seeing the Ob-Gyn in Arcadia who had already been exposed to trolls and was more than eager to partake in bringing the child of a half-troll into the world.

What this meant for Claire, however, was a _long_  drive whenever a visit was due; highly problematic if ever an emergency situation came up.

This provided Blinky and Jim all the more incentive to see to it the gyre station was completed as soon as possible.

But first, the forge.

The fourth day following Claire's departure from Trollmarket found Jim laying along the edges of the developing forge, pouring over another of Blinky's books and caught somewhere between feeling bad for his beloved and grateful he wasn't the pregnant one as he winced at the graphic images on the pages.

His phone buzzed with a message from Claire; a selfie from the clinic of her in a hospital gown, posing with Darci and Mary at either shoulder.

While he hated not being able to go with her, he was grateful that she wasn't alone.

“Master Jim!” Blinky called suddenly.

Jim sprung up, ears pricked in attention.

Across the grounds, stood the Trollmarket leader, flanked by the large, battle-hungry trolls who had been directly involved with getting the forge up and running. They were particularly eager then; stamping heavy feet and flexing dagger-like claws that were itching for a fight.

“Perhaps, our young Trollhunter would like to be the first to grace our new training grounds?” Blinky's voice carried across the cavern.

“Is it ready?” Jim asked, bouncing to his feet and running toward him. “Like,  _actually_ ready?”

“Only one way to find out,” Blinky said meaningfully as he reached for a lever.

Jim grinned eagerly, blood pumping as his armor clanged around his body.

The lever was pulled and Jim rose into the air as the ground beneath his feet broke off into platforms of varying heights. A second lever was pulled and Jim launched himself to a higher platform, dodging blunt projectiles and javelins as they were fired every which way. A third lever had the platforms rotating and rising and falling, wildly, with no discernable pattern.

With each lever or chain pulled, switch flipped or button pressed, a new obstacle was thrown Jim's way and he took it in stride. It felt like it had been ages since he had been really tested, since his physical ability was challenged and, when his helmet closed around his head and a javelin flecked harmlessly off his forehead, he realized he might have gotten just a  _little_ rusty.

“Careful, Master Jim!” Blinky roared from below, a hearty laugh bursting from his chest. “Our fair Claire wouldn't forgive us any time soon if something happened to her beloved Trollhunter!”

“ _Pfft_. Her _beloved Trollhunter_ wouldn't be your biggest fan, either,” Jim threw back, weaving out of the path of a wayward spike.

“Ha! I daresay we're more concerned with her wrath than your own!” Blinky countered in good humor, punching yet another button.

By the end of the course, Jim actually felt sore. His muscles ached and his old battle scars burned, but he felt almost giddy from the rush.

Blinky, grinning, clapped him on the armored shoulder and they both watched as the other trolls charged out into the arena.

* * *

 

“You know, Blink,” Jim began, eyeing the stack of new prenatal books that had been added to the growing pile on the table. “I _think_  you might have a problem.”

Blinky turned away from the pulsing, rich green glow of the heartstone. “Ah, yes. I might have gotten… just a touch carried away,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. His staff tapped audibly across the library floor as he neared the table. “But it’s all rather exciting, isn’t it? In a few months time, Master Jim, you will have fathered the very first child born in New Trollmarket!”

He clapped Jim on the shoulder and the Trollhunter winced, still sore from training.

“Yeah, totally. Exciting.” Jim agreed, noncommittally. He grabbed the nearest book and flipped through the pages. With his mind buzzing, he didn’t take the time to actually process the words in front of him, but it gave his hands something to do.

Blinky regarded him curiously. “Something troubling you, Master Jim?”

Jim took an intake of breath and released it with an anxious groan. “Still processing everything, I think. I mean, a couple of months ago, we weren’t even sure this was  _possible_. And now-” he gestured to the clutter of books surrounding him on the table, “-I’m reading pregnancy books.”

Blinky hummed, nodding in understanding.

“I mean, I’m excited,” Jim continued, running his fingers through his hair. “I  _am_  excited, don’t get me wrong, but it's  _overwhelming_. We accidentally made a tiny little person. Like, didn’t even mean to, but we created an entire person and we’re going to be responsible for them the rest of our lives and that’s  _insane_.”

Book still in hand, Jim stepped away from the table and began pacing. Blinky’s six eyes followed him around the room.

“I don’t know anything about being a father- I barely even remember mine. How am I supposed to raise a child without completely screwing them up? Claire’s going to be an amazing mom- she’s amazing at  _everything_ \- but me? I don’t know what I’m doing half the time in general, just by default.”

“You know,” Blinky began, scratching his chin in thought. “I seem to recall hearing similar concerns from your predecessor, centuries ago, before the birth of his son.”

Jim stopped pacing and looked at his mentor. “Kanjigar?”

Blinky nodded an affirmative. “Oh, he nearly drove us mad. I thought he was going to stress himself to death before Draal ever even emerged from his birthstone. But his son was born and, according to Kanjigar, everything just clicked into place.”

“But,” Jim frowned. “Draal and Kanjigar didn’t exactly have… the best relationship.”

“No, they didn’t,” Blinky agreed sadly. “At least not after he took the mantle of Trollhunter. Kanjigar was a commendable warrior, but he was far too set in his ways. Draal and he very rarely saw eye to eye- especially when it came to Nomura,” he winced at the memory. “But what Kanjigar the Courageous lacked, you, Master Jim, possess in spades.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Jim asked cautiously.

“The ability to learn from your mistakes and rise above them,” Blinky proclaimed, making his way around the table and toward the Trollhunter. “I never experienced fatherhood- not in any biological sense, anyhow. But from my own observations, I know every parent has shared your concerns at some point and they’ve all made their fair share of mistakes. How can they not when they’re, as you said, trying to raise an entire child without ‘screwing them up?’” He raised his lower pair of arms to bob his fingers, marking the phrase with quotation marks.

“I’m not worried for a moment that you will be anything less than an excellent father. You’ve done nothing but exceeded my expectations in all the time that we’ve known each other and I have no doubts you will continue to do so.”

“So then, what I’m hearing is, you  _do_  have doubts about my parenting skills.” Jim said, with a smirk and a nervous chuckle.

Blinky fixed him with a look and a disapproving grunt.

Jim raised his hand in concedence. His palm fell atop the book in his hands and he brushed it across the glossy cover, producing an audible rasp of stony skin against cardboard.

“Maybe you should look into getting a book or two on what to do when the baby’s actually born.” Jim suggested, passing the book to the troll. “You know, just to mix it up a little.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Blinky said with a reassuring smile.

* * *

 

Jim blearily cracked open his eyes, needing several moments to register the small hand on his shoulder that shook him awake.

He lifted his head from his pillow and his eyes met Claire's. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair still pinned and wearing her day clothes, as if she had come home and made a beeline right for their bedroom. Her eyes were tired, but there was an excited spark present there.

Still half asleep, he shot her such a dopey fond grin her heart was set aflutter.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice husky. He sluggishly placed his hand over hers.

“Hey,” Claire reached up to flick her fingers through his messed bangs. “I'm sorry, I was going to let you sleep, but I couldn't help myself,” she passed him a photo. “I brought you a present.”

“Oh, my favorite,” Jim yawned and tried to make sense of the sonogram photo she had given him. “... What exactly am I looking at? Like, I know this is…  _you,_ ” he gestured vaguely to the entirety of the photo, “but I can't figure anything out beyond that.”

“These,” Claire outlined an area around the center, “are our bab _ies_.”

She was careful to lay on the emphasis, but in Jim's semi-conscious state, it soared right over his head.

She was disappointed, but the incredulous look on his face as he regarded the photo more than made up for his lack of reaction.

“Wow…” He looked up at her, “So, who won the bet?”

“Well, it was hard to tell; the other one kept getting in the way.” She was practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Oh…” Jim trailed off, somewhat disappointed until he actually registered her words. He fixed his now puzzled gaze on her. “Wait, ‘ _the other one_?’ Other what?”

“The _other one_ ,” she tapped the photo with a smirk, “They weren't the most cooperative babies.”

Jim froze, mouthing the word in confusion. He looked to her for clarification.

Claire only grinned and waggled two fingers meaningfully.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, baby, let's bargain,” Claire said to herself as she pulled into the driveway of her childhood home and killed the engine. “If you let me actually eat my mom's enchiladas this time, I promise not to let Jim name you anything stupid.” She looked down at her stomach. “Deal?”

She waited for a moment, but felt no movement- not that she had yet, anyway- or anything resembling agreement from the child growing inside of her.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

She looked up and spotted her parents through the kitchen window, busy preparing dinner. Her mother suddenly glanced up, spotted her car and urgently waved her husband over. Moments later, both of her parents were rushing out the back door to greet her.

“ _Mija_!” Her father reached her first, tugging her into a bone-popping hug and effectively squeezing a surprised grunt out of her.

Claire laughed as she hugged Javier back. “ _Ay, Papá_! Take it easy! You act like I wasn't here just a few weeks ago.”

“I'm allowed to miss my little girl, no matter how long it's been,” her father stated, releasing her.

“She's not exactly a little girl anymore, Javier,” Ophelia pointed out, pulling her daughter into a significantly gentler embrace as her husband retrieved Claire's bag from the car.

“She will _always_ be my little girl,”Javier said with a defensive sniff. He noted the slight arc of her stomach and added: “Even if she's going to have a child of her own soon.”

They entered the kitchen and Claire immediately noticed Enrique, sitting at the table doing homework.

God, when did he get so _big_?

“Hey, _hermanito_ ,” she greeted, bounding across the kitchen to give her brother a hug. She tousled his hair, which had darkened significantly since infancy.

“Hi,” Enrigue quickly returned the hug before resuming his work.

“How's school going?” Claire asked, scanning the page for any errors she might help out with, but she found none.

“Good,” came the short response.

“It's no use, _mija_ ,” Javier called from his resumed spot at the stove. “He's in _the zone._ Nothing breaks him out of the zone.”

Ophelia stepped toward the table. “Except maybe some of Ophelia Nuñez's famous enchiladas.”

She set a plate down in front of her son, who finally pulled his attention from his homework and eyed the food as if the idea of eating hadn’t even crossed his mind. Claire was intimately familiar with that mindset from her days of schooling.

“Ah _ha_ ,” Ophelia said, triumphant. “Now, put this all away, you can get back to it once we've all had dinner like a _family_ again.”

She squeezed Claire's shoulder affectionately and her daughter forced a smile.

But one whiff of the enchiladas she used to love so much made Claire's gut clench with nausea, confirming that her baby had no intention of holding to the bargain it had never really agreed to in the first place.

* * *

 

When Claire had officially moved out and Enrique had gotten a little older, he had relocated into her old, much larger bedroom. The tree on her wall had been painted over and anything she hadn't whisked away to New Jersey over the years had been stored.

It didn't even feel like her old room anymore, but, then again, it didn't belong to her now.

Claire had been laying in the guest room- which had once been Enrique's old nursery- when she heard a tap at the window.

She lowered her phone, turned her head and spotted a pair of large yellow eyes watching from the darkness.

“Big eyes!” NotEnrique shot her a toothy grin as she opened the window, arms outstretched in uncensored excitement.

“I was wondering if you were going to show up. I didn't see you _at all_ the last time I was in town.” She crossed her arms and feigned indignation, but she couldn’t fight the smirk that tugged insistently at the corner of her lips.

It was good to see him again.

“Somethin’, er, came up,” NotEnrique scratched at his scruff sheepishly. “But I'm ‘ere now! And ready to catch up with my sis-”

He suddenly stopped and sniffed the air, having caught wind of something. He regarded her curiously and leaned forward to take a tentative whiff of her sleeve.

“Ugh, _blech_!” He made a face of disgust and snorted to clear his nose. “What did that blue mutt do to you, sis?!”

“Don’t be rude!” She chided, bopping him between the ears.

“Ouch!” The changeling exclaimed dramatically. Claire rolled her eyes, knowing she hadn't hit him nearly hard enough for him to really even feel it, let alone actually hurt him. “I wasn't bein’ rude! You just smell… _weird_. At least more than usual-”

That earned him another harmless bop.

“This is a _fine_ way to greet the brother you never bother to visit,” NotEnrique sniffed indignantly, rubbing his forehead.

“I gave you plenty of advance notice when I was here last time. _You’re_ the one who never showed,” Claire pointed out, but reached out to scratch his scruff by way of apology for the bops she'd dealt.

NotEnrique arched into her touch despite himself, not unlike a cat.

“I was _busy_! Listen, we've already gone over this.” He hopped down from the window to inspect the impersonal knick knacks on the nightstand. “You shouldn't dwell on the past, kid-” he eyed her stomach warily. “Er, I guess not ‘kid' anymore, eh?”

Claire shook her head and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You flesh things grow up so fast,” NotEnrique gave an uncharacteristically somber sigh. “Your brother too- your _real_ brother. Just sproutin’ like a weed, he is.” He hopped over to sit beside her on the bed.

“You’re my _real_ brother, too,” Claire assured, ruffling his ears.

“ _Bah!"_  NotEnrique grumbled as he shoved her hand away and pinned his ears back. He made a spectacle of “fixing” his unkempt mane.

Claire felt her phone vibrate; a message from Jim.

It was an image of Blinky, passed out at the table in his library, _surrounded_ by prenatal books, and simply captioned: _“Blinkous the Midwife has had a hard night._

 _“We were supposed to work on the forge some more but I can’t bring myself to wake him up.”_ He added a second later.

 _“Let him sleep. Your father deserves it.”_ Claire responded, smiling indulgently.

NotEnrique plucked absently at the comforter beneath him, his disgruntled grumbling catching the attention of his adopted sister.

“Can I help you?” She quirked a brow in his direction.

“Bah, it’s nothin’,” he mumbled. “Thinkin’ ‘bout stuff, I guess.”

“What kind of stuff?” She asked.

He scratched his neck, suddenly sheepish. “Eh, you humans, you just keep… gettin’ older. Like the tyke in the other room; I feel like every time I look away he’s gettin’ bigger and smarter. He’s already sharp as _hell_ when he used to be too stupid to even _talk._

“And then _you_ ,” he looked up at her, ears drooped. “I barely seen ya since you left and when you came back you weren’t a kid anymore; you were suddenly all _grown_. And now-” he glanced down at her abdomen, “-you’re gonna have a little tyke of your own and I’m gonna see you even less.”

He looked so dejected, so thoroughly upset by this train of thought it made Claire’s heart ache.

She had no shortage of fondness for this little changeling. Ironic, considering how often they’d initially fought when the twists of fate had tossed them together and told them to “play nice.”

“You can come with me to Trollmarket,” Claire offered, scooting across the bed to sit closer to him. “I can always bring you back when my next appointment rolls around, if you wanted me to.”

He seemed to give this some thought, but ended up sighing and shaking his head. “Nah, Trollmarket’s more of a one changelin' kinda town. Besides, there’d be no one to protect the kid. Or your parents, either, I guess. But I think I still make them a little uneasy. They get all squirmy if I hang around for too long.” He picked thoughtfully at one of his ears.

He perked up suddenly, eyes bright. “But the kid likes me. We’re like _that_ -” he entwined two of his claws, “-and I’ve given him lots of quality worldly advice, if I do say so myself,” he added with a smug grin, polishing his claws against the coarse fur growing over his shoulder.

“Nothing that would make you a _bad influence_ , I hope.” Claire warned.

“Of course not!” NotEnrique waved a talon dismissively. “He’s too smart for any of that stuff, anyways.”

“Well, he is _our_ brother, after all.” Claire said, pulling him into her lap for an embrace, despite his squirming.

“ _Pfft_ . You say that _we’re_ the good ones; I’m a changelin’ and you got knocked up by your half-troll boy-toy.” He scrunched up his nose, catching her scent once again. He broke away from her, frantically rubbing his face. “Ugh, why’d you let him do that to you?”

“...Well, I wasn't exactly _against_ what was happening at the time,” came Claire’s frank response.

NotEnrique balked and pressing his talons over his ears. “ _Oi!_ Don’t tell me _that_! That’s _disgustin’!_ ”

“Oh, _that’s_ too far.” She crossed her arms. “All the gross stuff you’ve told me and _that’s_ going too far.”

“ _Yes_!” The small troll glowered up at her. “You’re my _sister_! I don’t want to hear it!”

“Would it make it better if I told you I’m the one who initiated-”

“ _Stop_!” NotEnrique shrieked, slapping his claws over her mouth and stifling her mad cackling at his expense.

* * *

 

_“I feel obligated to never touch you again after reading some of this stuff. I am so sorry for what I have done to you.”_

Claire rolled her eyes and tapped out her response to Jim’s text: _“It takes two, Jimbo.”_

 _“That doesn’t make me any less sorry.”_ Accompanying his reply was a photo of the particularly graphic image he’d taken from one of Blinky’s books.

 _“Already seen it. What you_ should _see is this poster I’ve been stuck staring at for the past twenty minutes.”_

She sat up, the paper covering the exam table crinkling loudly as she moved, and raised her phone to take a photo of the poster in question. She yelped, caught off guard by Mary popping up at her side and resting her chin atop her shoulder.

“Ooooh, are we sending selfies to Jimmy-Jam?”

Darci was at her other side in an instant, jostling the pair of them in her eagerness. “Not without me, you’re not!”

The trio busted out into a fit of giggles, managing to compose themselves just long enough to strike a pose for the selfie in question. Claire sent the photo to Jim and then to her best friends, at their insistence.

 _“That doesn’t seem so bad,”_ Jim responded a few minutes later. _“Who’s the cute one in the middle?”_

 _“Careful. I heard she has a boyfriend,”_ Claire typed, lovesick grin on her face. _“He sounds pretty tough.”_

_“Nah, I can probably take him.”_

“C-bomb,” Mary suddenly, catching Claire’s attention. She looked up from her phone and fixed her gaze on Mary, who was examining diagrams and figurines around the room with a disgusted fascination. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh boy,” Claire and Darci said in unison, exchanging a glance.

“An _anatomy_ question, specifically.” Mary clarified.

“I don’t think I’m licensed for that, Mary,” Claire responded flatly, wary of where this was going.

“A _half-troll_ anatomy question, even more specifically.”

And that’s where she suspected this might be going.

“Mary, I don’t think anyone-” Claire spotted Darci leaning forward expectantly. Her jaw dropped in surprise. “ _Darci_!”

“Hey, you can’t blame us for being a little curious, Claire,” Darci held her hands up defensively.

“I’m not talking about this.” Claire said, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be a _super_ graphic answer-” Darci began.

“But we _are_ open to super graphic answers,” Mary butted in, quickly, perversely curious as always.

“-We were just wondering, you know,” Darci rolled her wrist meaningfully, “how things may or may not be a little… _different_ -”

“No.”

“If I gave you pen and paper,” Mary began, preemptively digging around in her purse, “would you _draw_ -”

“ _No!_ ”

“Hello, hello!” The door swung open and in stepped a stout woman, inspecting the clipboard in her hand; Dr.Mason.

“Oh thank god,” Claire breathed, relieved for the interruption.

“Miss Nuñez! Wonderful to see you again, uh,” the doctor gave a quick scan of the room. “No, uh, no father this time?”

Jim had not once been able to accompany Claire for these appointments, but that never stopped Dr.Mason from asking about him. She was, not so secretly, deeply enthralled with the world of trolls and had been eager to meet with this first-of-his-kind half troll Barbara had told her about when enlisting her help.

“His, er, line of work doesn’t really let him travel very far,” Claire explained with an apologetic wince. “Not right now, anyway.”

Dr.Mason nodded in understanding, not quite managing to hide the disappointment in her eyes. She managed to shake it off quickly, however, and hit Claire with one of her infamously infectious grins.

“Well, let’s see that baby, then!”

“I still can’t believe you’re going to be the first one of us with kids,” Mary mused, shaking her head in disbelief as the doctor prepped Claire for the sonogram.

“Yeah,” Darci agreed. “I always thought it would be Mary- _ow_!”

* * *

 

Following her appointment with Dr.Mason, Barbara had invited Claire and her friends over for dinner. Mary had backed out of the invitation to go out on a date so it was just Claire and Darci- and Toby, apparently. He was already sitting at the dining table when they arrived, phone to his ear.

Barbara was in the kitchen, fanning the smoke alarm and shooting them an apologetic grimace.

Toby met Claire’s gaze and pointed to his phone. “Pizza” he mouthed by way of explanation.

Holding his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, he stood to pull out Darci’s chair for her.

“Something meaty with extra meat,” Claire whispered loudly, breezing passed the table to meet Barbara in the kitchen.

Toby shot her a thumbs up.

Barbara was scraping the charred remains of what would have been their dinner into the garbage. She beamed at Claire as she approached and extended an arm toward her. Claire met her in a side hug.

“How are you liking Dr.Mason?” Barbara asked after exchanging pleasant greetings.

“I like her alot actually,” Claire said, reaching out the take the now emptied pan from her and clean it off in the sink. “She’s super nice.”

“She’s the best in the business too,” Barbara assured and wiped her hands on a nearby cloth. “Her mother’s the one who helped deliver Jim, actually.”

“Keeping it in the family, I see.” Claire joked, toweling off the pan and setting it aside to dry.

Barbara's shoulder bounced in a nonchalant shrug and Claire couldn’t help but notice how the gesture, which she was so familiar with seeing preformed by Jim, really helped to hammer in the familial ties between the two. “Not intentionally, but, you know.”

They made their way back into the main room and Toby raised his phone. “Super meaty pizza is on it’s way. In 45 minutes or less, specifically. And,” he swiped the bottle of wine he had brought for dinner from the table and jabbed his finger challengingly in Claire’s direction. “I’m totally drinking in front of you.”

Claire stuck out her tongue at him, but didn’t protest. She didn’t care all that much, truthfully, and he knew it; just because she couldn’t drink didn’t mean she was bothered if the others did.

“So,” Barbara began, not able to contain her curiosity anymore. “Did you find out what you’re having?”

Toby came back into the dining room, setting wine glasses down in front of Barbara and Darci and unceremoniously dropping a glass of water in front of Claire. “Yeah, how much money did we win?”

“Still don’t know anything about the gender,” Claire said, biting back a smirk as she slapped the sonogram photo onto the table, “of _either_ of them.”

The shocked expressions on Barbara and Toby’s faces was enough to leave her and Darci collapsing into fits of laughter.

“No way,” Toby cried, looking over Barbara’s shoulder as she lifted the photo for closer inspection. “You mean we have a chance to win _double_?”

“Or _lose_ double,” Darci cautioned.

“No way we’re gonna lose,” Toby said dismissively, making his way around the table pouring drinks. “Claire voted same as we did- I’m putting my faith in a mother’s intuition.”

“Did you tell Jim yet?” Barbara asked, eyes bright behind her glasses. The uncensored joy on her face was infectious enough to leave everyone grinning from ear to ear.

“No, not yet,” Claire took a sip of her water. She smiled mischievously. “I kind of want to be there to see his face when I do.”

“ _Nice_ ,” Toby commented approvingly.

* * *

“No way there are _two_ kids in there!” NotEnrique exclaimed, eyeing Claire’s narrow waist in disbelief. “I didn’t believe you when you said there was _one_ , now you’re trying to feed me some bushigal about there bein’ _two_?”

Claire laughed, presenting the sonogram photo to the changeling. “See for yourself!”

He snatched it from her, narrow eyes roaming the monochrome image. “This don’t make a lick of sense.”

Claire rolled her eyes and leaned over his shoulder to draw outlines with her finger: “ _This_ is the first one; see, this is their head and body. And then _this_ , is the second one.”

NotEnrique studied the outlined figures for several moments, eyes softening as he finally registered what he was seeing. “Big eyes… you’re… you’re actually gonna have kids...”

Claire quirked a brow. “Did you think I was lying before?”

“No, not lyin’,” NotEnrique said. “Just… didn’t seem _real_ before now.” He clutched the photo to his small chest and looked up at her. “Is this for keeps?”

“Well, no, you can’t keep that one, but I am making copies before I leave tomorrow. I can get one made for you if you want.” Claire offered.

NotEnrique nodded, turning away. “I’d like that.”

“...Are you crying?”

“ _No!_ ” The small changeling snarled and scrubbed at his eyes. “Changelin’s don’t cry!”

“Aw, you _are_ crying!” Claire scooped him into her arms. “You _do_ care!”

“Get your smelly face _away_ from me!” NotEnrique growled, trying to wriggle out of her grasp as she leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

He managed to break free and bolted out into the hallway, the sonogram photo fluttering to the guest room floor behind him. Claire’s fit of laughter followed him out.

Her phone buzzed and, wiping tears from her eyes, she checked the message she had received.

 _“Forge is done,”_ read Jim’s text, punctuated by a thumbs up. _“But I think we might have gone overboard with training.”_ Accompanying his message was a photo of the crew of large trolls who had been working on the forge all this time, sprawled out, sore and miserable, throughout the training grounds. Blinky stood amongst them, one pair of arms crossed over his chest and the other with hands on his hips, his expression utterly unamused by this turn of events.

_“How did the appointment go?”_

Claire hesitated, chewing her lip in thought before responding: _“Good. But should talk about it in person.”_

 _“Something bad?”_ She could almost visualize the worried expression on her beloved's face.

But she just _had_ to be there to see his face when she gave him the news.

 _“No, just would rather talk about it face to face.”_ Came Claire's response.

_“Did you find anything out about the baby’s gender?”_

Claire rolled her eyes. He would. _“Face to face, Jim.”_

_“Fiiiiiiine.”_

She was settling down for bed and had reached over to set her charging phone back onto the night stand when it vibrated in her palm.

She tilted her phone up to read the text that flashed across the top of the screen: _"Love you."_


	4. Chapter 4

“Sorry, sorry,” Claire's apology preceded her arrival to Blinky's library.

The elder looked up from the tome before him just as the young woman rushed through the entryway.

She had been spending the entirety of the day running all manner of errands throughout Trollmarket and it certainly showed; her cheeks were flushed, her normally pristine hair disheveled, and her coat hung on her frame completely askew.

She looked simply exhausted.

“Some bottle of _goop_ fell over in the workshop and I was trying to get it cleaned up,” she explained and picked irritably at the stain on her cuff. “I have no idea what it was supposed to be but if Merlin starts complaining about being out of whatever it was he's just going to have to _get over it_ -”

Claire took a deep breath and waved her hand dismissively, interrupting the rant that had been brewing.

“Whatever.” She slipped her bag from her shoulder and placed it on the table beside the current subject of Blinky's attention; a hulking troll who, considering the sizable chunk torn from his shoulder, was awaiting their ministrations patiently. “What happened here?”

“Oh, the usual; an inflated ego and an ill-timed dodge in the forge,” Blinky explained distractedly, turning the page of his book. “All things considered, our friend here got off quite lucky.”

Claire regarded the wound with fascination, repressing the impulsive urge to poke at the brittle dead stone. The majority of the large troll's shoulder was completely gone, leaving his arm holding on by just a thread of living stone.

“Can you still feel your arm?” She asked curiously and tapped lightly against the back of his hand. It was still the same dusty yellow as the rest of him.

The troll raised his hand and wriggled his fingers toward her.

“Aye, can still move her a bit too,” he responded with surprisingly good humor, considering.

Blinky pressed the troll's hand back down onto the table. “Yes, yes. Maybe for now. But keep moving around and you'll only exacerbate your injuries,” he looked at Claire with a weary sigh. “He was high-fiving trolls all the way here from the training grounds.”

“What's the good of a battle scar if you can't show it off?” The wounded troll ventured.

“Well, if you're not _careful,_ that pride is going to cost you your axe-throwing arm.” Came Blinky's response.

“Ach, I’ll still have the javelin-wielding one,” the troll assured and waved his other hand.

Blinky ignored the remark entirely. He instead turned toward Claire and gestured toward her bag. “Did you manage to find what I asked for?”

“Yeah, I still had some of it,” Claire confirmed with a nod as she unzipped her bag, “but Merlin's inventory is getting really low- on like everything, not just the ingredients I need for these potions. I don't really want to have to go out and restock all his junk, but if he's not back soon I might _have_ to.”

Blinky hummed thoughtfully as she produced numerous stoppered vials of multi-color liquids from within her bag. “No, I don't believe that would be the soundest of decisions, given your condition. Not to imply you couldn't handle yourself properly,” he added quickly.

Claire held up a hand, smirking with amusement. “It's fine, Blinky. I agree with you- not smart. But if I can't go out and get this stuff, we'll have to be super sparing with any potions. For, what, twenty more weeks at least?”

Blinky tapped his chin. He looked over at the heartstone that they had built his library around. It was large enough to form the entirety of the far wall, a vast improvement from the relatively small size it had possessed upon its discovery, but it still wasn’t quite where they needed it to be. “That could prove to be quite the problem. The heartstone is still too young to draw any significant healing power from it. We can draw a little, sure, for more minor injuries.”

“But anything serious will probably need one of my potions.” Claire unstopped one of the vials and turned her nose up at the smell unleashed. Thanks to her new “Mom nose,” as her mother had referred to it, it seemed like just about every smell made her stomach do nauseous flips.

Blinky took the vial from her, politely relieving her of her task. “If we're careful, we can manage. But Deya forbid we suffer any kind of outbreak of any kind.”

Claire sighed, shoulders slumping. “Tomorrow Claire can worry about all that. The Claire of the Present is just here to help big guy here-” the troll in question shot her a toothy grin, “-and then she's going home to sleep for about a hundred years.”

Blinky chuckled, carefully applying Claire's potion to the injured troll's wound. “My word. I know you're resting for three but that sounds quite excessive.”

“It's been a long day, Blinky.” She plopped down at the table, sighing with relief as the aching in her lower back eased up. “I mean, I spent most of it taking inventory of what's left in Merlin's workshop but still.”

Blinky grunted with disapproval. “I believe it's more _your_ workshop than his at this point.”

“I don't want _Merlin's_ workshop,” Claire protested, scrunching her nose at the idea. “I want my _own_ workshop. Someplace closer to Trollmarket. Not so weirdly isolated from everything.”

“Someday,” Blinky said. “The forge has been completed and with that crossed off the list we've shifted our focus to completing the gyre. But perhaps we can get a small crew together; I don’t imagine it would take terribly long to build a workshop to your specifications- _stop that_!”

Their patient, who had been watching him work intently, cradled his freshly struck hand to his chest, not unlike a wounded puppy. “It tingles.” He said simply.

He made a second attempt to poke at the magical liquid smeared into his gaping shoulder.

“That means it's working.” Blinky slapped his hand away once more.

Blinky, annoyed but satisfied with his application of the potion, moved to lift the retrieved hunk of shoulder stone from the table and fix it back into their patient's wound. Claire, noting his struggle to lift it, made to rise from her seat, but Blinky bade her not to with a wave of a hand and a strained grunt.

He managed to push the dead stone back into place, where it adhered to the potion and would, hopefully, revive and be good as new. A more generous application of Claire's healing potions could see reattached dead stone- if reattached quickly- revived in a matter of days. The little Blinky had applied to this particular troll could takes weeks, assuming he took the proper R&R and didn't agitate his wounds.

Not that he would willingly take any bets on that.

A healthy heartstone and a skilled elder with the proper incantation could see a wound of that kind reversed in a matter of minutes.

But, for the time being, Trollmarket was without either of those things, Blinky noted silently.

“There we are,” the elder exclaimed, hearty voice masking the unpleasant emotions brought on by his intrusive thoughts. “That won't set properly for at least a couple days, so you'll need to take it easy for some time.”

The troll regarded his reattached shoulder blankly. “When can I go back to the forge?”

Blinky frowned. “Well, if you're looking to lose that shoulder and possibly your entire arm for good, then immediately.”

The troll seemed to actually be considering if it was worth the consequences, when the ground suddenly rattled beneath their feet. A loud _boom_ sound somewhere across Trollmarket.

“Deya’s grace! What on earth was that?” Blinky exclaimed, multiple pairs of eyes alarmed as he steadied himself against the table.

Claire swiped one of the vials from the table and was on her feet and rushing toward the exit in an instant.

“That was probably the sound of my day getting even longer.”

* * *

 

Jim coughed and sputtered, summoning his shield to try and use it to fan away the dark clouds of smoke obscuring his vision.

“Everyone ok?” He called out, ears still ringing.

“Everyone” being the two trolls who had been helping him head the progress on the gyre. Well, three if you counted both of the heads on one of them.

The two-headed troll groaned in response, sounding pained but otherwise very much alive.

The second, a much more small and slight troll, growled in frustration, swearing loudly as he kicked something over.

Nothing important, hopefully.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Jim grumbled, moving to help the two-head troll to their feet and push them toward the exit.

Out of the smoke and in the significantly fresher air of Trollmarket, Jim noted that many of the resident trolls had gathered curiously outside what was supposed to become the new gyre station.

At least, if they ever managed to finish construction.

Claire broke through the crowd and skidded to a halt before her boyfriend, brandishing a potion in front of her. “Is anyone hurt?”

Jim glanced over at the two-headed troll, who had managed to sit up against a wall and was currently drinking from a flask they had produced from somewhere.

“We're fine. But Klarl-” the swears and curses from inside the would-be gyre station reached a pitch that made him swivel his ears in the opposite direction, “-is having conniptions.”

Claire sighed, stuffing the vial into her coat pocket. Jim’s armor was as pristine as ever, but the entirety of his right hand and head from the neck up were _covered_ in soot and ash.

She reached up to brush away some of the soot around his eyes. “What happened now?”

Jim shrugged, raising his hands defensively. “I have no idea. I didn't even touch anything this time.”

Klarl, still growling profanities under his breath, emerged from the smoke. The pale tone of his stone skin was almost completely masked by the ash covering him from horn to tail.

“Wait,” Claire took a quick head count. “There's only three- _four_ of you?”

The gyre crew was normally much larger than that.

“It's all you can glug at the glug-,” came the response of one of the flask-wielding troll's heads, “-I mean pub.” Corrected the second head, lowering their flask.

Klarl, finally noting the flask, turned slowly toward his crewmate, red eyes calculating. “What are you drinking?”

“Pub-”

“-Glug.”

Klarl took a deep breath; the kind of breath meant to cool rapidly mounting rage. Jim bristled, wary; he was familiar with the small troll’s quick temper.

“I've seen you drinking from that all day. Is glug the _only_ thing you've filled it with?” Klarl asked, claws flexing at his sides.

The two heads exchanged a look and hesitated before responding. One head nodded an affirmative until they noticed their counterpart shaking their head and quickly followed suit.

“You,” Klarl began, practically vibrating with rage, “were working on the reconstruction of a piece of delicate troll technology while _inebriated_?!”

The tiny troll made a dash toward his crewmate, claws outstretched toward him. Jim quickly intercepted him on his war path and hoisted him over his shoulder.

Klarl’s arms and legs flailed about, claws raking harmlessly through Jim’s dense mane of hair. “You _idiot!_ ” He spat at the two-headed troll. “We were so _close!_ You’ve set us back I don’t even know how far!”

“We couldn’t have been that close if it _blewed up!"_  Came the slurred response.

“Hey, hey! Cool it!” Jim dislodged the troll from his shoulder and held him at arm’s length.

“They ruined all our progress!” Klarl snarled in protest. “And we were so-”

“-So close. I know, I was there too.” Jim huffed, exasperated.

Klarl, seeing that the Trollhunter was just as frustrated by the turn of events as he, deflated. He dropped his arms, letting them dangle limply above the ground.

“We can try again tomorrow with a full crew. Assuming no one ends up hungover, anyway,” Jim decided, setting the troll on the ground and giving him an encouraging push in the direction of the pub. “Go. Go get some glug or something. Chill out for a bit.”

Klarl, still grumbling under his breath, padded away from the gyre station, all the while rubbing his hands over his ash-coated body in a futile attempt to clean himself off.

Jim turned toward the other troll, who was still nursing their flask. He twisted his amulet from his chest and dismissed his armor.

“Honestly? I’m not even mad,” he crossed his arms with a weary sigh. “Just disappointed.”

The other troll looked away shamefully and Jim turned back toward Claire. The small crowd had dissipated, no longer interested now that they knew no one was hurt- or could possibly end up getting hurt.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, that's a day wasted.”

Claire winced sympathetically and took his hand. “Do you need help cleaning up?” She gestured inquisitively toward the gyre station; the smoke had cleared, giving an open view of the explosion aftermath.

“No, I can do that,” he said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He stopped, noticing for the first time the smears of soot and ash coating the back of his hand. “And then I think I'm going to shower and call it a day.”

“That sounds like an amazing plan,” Claire remarked wistfully. “I might have to follow your example later. But first,” she pointed dramatically off into the distance, “I'm off to clean up after the wizard.”

Jim chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Have fun with that.”

“I'll try.” She regarded him for a moment. “I'd kiss you, but you know,” she gestured meaningfully toward her face.

“Yeah, fair.” Jim swiped at his cheek and examined the dark smear across his palm. “I'll take a rain check.”

* * *

 

It was a solid fifteen minute walk from Trollmarket to what was Merlin's potentially abandoned workshop. The winding tunnel leading up to said workshop was only just wide enough to allow passage by an average-sized troll and lined from start to finish with pulsing crystal lanterns.

Claire had always suspected the sizing had been purposeful; to dissuade visitors. But the long walk was typically more than enough discouragement for the average troll. The clicking of her boot heels echoed down tunnel, the only thing that broke the intentionally lonely silence.

Merlin had first shown an interest in training her while they had all still been on the road from Arcadia to New Jersey. At the time Claire had been pretty sure he was just bored and wanted a project.

But who was she to turn down an amazing opportunity?

In the beginning he was a surprisingly attentive mentor, albeit a touch frustrating in his cryptically vague Merlin-esque way. Overtime, however, he grew to become rather absentee.

Especially after their settling into New Trollmarket.

Claire came to the end of the tunnel and halted before a pair of iridescent, emerald doors. She fished out the key Merlin had left behind and started to push it toward the lock-

-Before she realized one of the doors was already ajar.

She hesitated and tried to recall if she had forgot to lock the doors behind her earlier that day.

No, she was certain she had locked it- she always did.

Cautiously, she pushed against the heavy door and promptly froze.

Merlin, balancing a pair of jars in one hand and a half eaten apple in the other, stood only a few feet before her. He was poised mid-step, as if he had been just about to leave.

He blinked in surprise. “Claire? How on earth did you get in here? The door has a lock.”

Not bothering to mention he hadn't even locked the door, she silently raised the key.

Merlin's eyes lit up with recognition. “That's where that went. Fantastic. Mystery solved.” He glanced back at the table behind him. “That also explains what happened to my elixir.”

“You mean the _goop_?” Claire asked in confusion.

“You didn't get any on your skin, did you?” He asked, far too nonchalant for her liking.

“No,” she responded and warily looked down at the stain on her sleeve. “Why? What would happen if I did?”

Merlin shrugged. “Eh, no matter. You didn't get any on you so there's no reason for concern.”

“I'd still like an answer.” She responded flatly and carefully peeled off her coat.

But she knew better than to expect an actual response.

“I suppose you're also the one who made this?” He gestured toward the notebook she had been using to keep up with with his inventory. He nodded approvingly. “Very organized.”

“Um… thanks?” Claire said, torn somewhere between confusion and pride.

Merlin paused, regarding her curiously. “You look… different somehow.”

Claire blinked. “I'm… pregnant?” She ventured, pointing toward her rounded abdomen.

“Oh. Still?”

 _Still_? What did he mean _still?_

Her eyes widened with realization. The last time time she had seen him had been a few weeks before Toby had come to visit. Which meant-

“You _knew_?” She cried, incredulous. “You knew and you never said _anything_?”

“I assumed _you_ knew.” Merlin replied simply, weaving passed her and out into the tunnel beyond his workshop.

“How could I have known?! I wasn't even aware this was _possible!_ ”

Merlin shot her a confused look. “Has no one ever explained to you the, oh what do you call it now? The… birds and the bees? Because I regret to inform you that's not part of my curriculum.”

He turned and continued on his way.

“Wait, where are you going?” Claire called after him.

Merlin took a bite of his apple. “We're low on supplies, are we not? Your little book was quite clear on that.”

Claire doubled back to pull the door closed behind her. “Well, hold on, are you coming back, or-”

But when Claire turned back to address him, Merlin had completely disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim’s keen hearing picked up the unmistakable sound of the front door opening, over the hiss of running water. He felt himself relax, glad to know that Claire was finally home.

His relaxation was very short lived, however, when the bathroom door burst open a fraction of a second later. He yelped, hackles raising in alarm.

Claire, from her side of the shower curtain, buried her face in her hands and let loose a muffled cry of frustration.

Jim slumped against the wall and sighed with relief. For a split second he had been worried that he was about to be attacked while in a less than ideal position- a long held fear of his that he had, miraculously somehow, managed to avoid in his near decade of trollhunting.

“I take it Merlin's place wasn't as fun as you'd hoped?” He ventured sheepishly.

“ _That annoying wizard_!” He could hear the clipping of her boot heels as she began pacing back and forth. “He shows up for the first time in months and he's just no help and-! And _of course_ he's just being an ass, _as usual._  ‘Well, I thought _you_ knew-,’” she began in a near perfect imitation of Merlin's cadence, “‘-Didn't anyone ever tell you about the birds and the bees?’ He just- _ugh_!”

She stormed out of the bathroom and Jim listened to her footsteps as she stormed toward their bedroom.

He shut off the water and gave himself a good shake to dry off.

Probably a good time to call it with the shower.

Now clean and redressed, he entered their bedroom to find Claire laying face down on the bed.

“So, wait, Merlin's _back_?” Jim asked, puzzled.

Claire, not lifting her head, made a defeated sound and tossed her hands up in a defeated “I have no clue” gesture.

Jim hummed thoughtfully. Her frustration and exhaustion hung so heavy in the air it was nearly tangible.

He sunk down onto the mattress beside her and pulled her into his lap. Claire huffed, leaned into his chest and curled her legs around her.

“He was just _there,_ ” Claire began. Jim's arms coiled around her and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “He was just standing there, about to leave, and it was sheer luck I even caught him. For all I know, he's been popping in and out and I just haven't been around to catch it.”

She pressed her temple to his and scrunched her nose as his hair tickled her face. His stony skin was pleasantly warm from his shower but his hair was still damp and cooling rapidly.

She was too tired of everything to care.

“He knew about the wombmates,” she said after a moment and felt his ears prick at her words. “Like, way,  _way_ before we ever did.”

“How-?” Jim made a sound of confusion. “But he never said anything to you?”

“Nope. Not a thing,” she responded. “Infact, he said he thought _we_ already knew.”

“But how could we?” Jim's brows furrowed. “We didn't even know it was possible to…?”

“ _Exactly._ ”

“Did he at least give any tips or advice on anything we should be looking out for or, you know, _anything_?” Jim ventured. He wasn't even sure if that was information the wizard would be privy to, but if anyone was, it would be him.

Or at least he would assume so.

“I didn't even get a chance to ask. I looked away for literally two seconds and he just-,” she snapped her fingers, “- _poof_.”

“...Wait. Not to change the subject, but,” Jim said after a few moments. “Did you say ‘ _w_ _omb_ mates?’”

“I did.” Claire responded, grinning despite herself. “I thought of that on the way back, but I was too angry to give it the proper appreciation it deserved. You just totally rolled with it too, like you knew _exactly_ what I was talking about.”

Jim groaned, unwrapping himself from around her to lean back onto his hands. “In my defense, I'm exhausted. My brain's too tired to function properly.”

Claire giggled. “No, I get it. It was kinda cute, though.”

She leaned forward to gently press her lips to his. When she pulled back, the smitten grin on his face left her laughing.

He could handle being “cute” if it meant Claire's unhappiness had dissipated- even if just for the moment.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked.

Claire actually had to think about it for a moment. “No. The plan was to eat when I came home, but then the wizard happened.”

“Alright,” he stood, taking Claire with him. She squealed with surprised laughter and clung to his neck as her feet dangled a good couple feet above the ground. “What are you and the _wombmates_ in the mood for?”

“I bumped into that fish vendor troll on the way back home,” Claire said. “He gave me like this huge fish that I didn't really know what do with it so it's just sitting on the counter in the kitchen.”

The trolls of New Trollmarket had a surprising mentality of “it takes a village” when it came to child rearing. Since Claire's condition had become more well known, many of the vendors had taken to trying to feed her when she passed through.

While she appreciated the sentiment, it could be a little overwhelming at times, especially when she had to politely inform them of the limitations of a human diet if they offered her something unconventional.

When the cattle herders had approached them, for instance,  it had taken quite a bit of explaining as to why they couldn't just accept an _entire_ calf.

“Oh, is _that_ what I'm smelling?” Jim, smirking, buried his nose into her neck and sniffed loudly. She squirmed with ticklish laughter and he couldn't imagine a more wonderful sound.

* * *

 

Jim slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs into Blinky’s library before Claire woke the next morning.

“Hey, Blink-” he stopped at the foot of the stairs, surprised to find the elder wasn’t alone.

A large yellow troll was sitting on the table in front of him, his severed arm sitting gray and liveless beside him as Blinky tended to his now arm-less shoulder. The yellow troll’s expression was shame-faced beneath the steely gaze of a third troll; his spouse, Jim assumed.

“What’s, uh…?” The Trollhunter gestured vaguely to the scene in front of him.

“Bah,” Blinky grunted, one of his eyes flicking up from his task to fix on Jim. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Master Jim.”

Jim raised a hand in a cautious wave. The wounded troll opened his mouth to speak but when his spouse gave him a fixed look, he quickly shut it.

“Were you in need of something?” Blinky asked, ignoring the exchange.

“Uh, yeah,” Jim approached the table and watched Blinky work. “I was just wanting to see if you’d be cool with me and Claire kind of taking the day off?”

Blinky turned his head to look at him, surprised by the suggestion. “Well, of course. You both deserve time to yourselves every now and again. I wasn’t aware you were waiting for my permission to do so.”

“Well, no,” Jim shifted his gaze to the severed arm. “I’m more letting you know we won’t be available, I guess? I mean, if there’s an emergency-”

“No need for concern; I’ve got you both on speed dial,” Blinky assured with a grin.

* * *

 

Jim had _attempted_ to let Claire sleep in, but, thanks to her natural circadian rhythm, she was up and out of their bedroom while he was still in the middle of preparing breakfast.

Hair still messy and practically swimming in one of his shirts, she took a seat at the counter. Her gaze settled longingly on the coffeemaker across the kitchen.

“We’re taking the day off,” Jim announced, sliding a plate in front of her.

Claire dragged her gaze from the coffeemaker, to the eggs he’d made for her and stared up at him, blinking her eyes owlishly. “Day… off?” She tilted her head.

“Yep.” Jim chuckled.

“Like,” she squinted her eyes suspiciously. “Off-off?”

“Completely off,” Jim confirmed. “Absolutely no trollhunting crap. Unless something huge happens, anyway.”

Claire looked uncertain as she picked up her fork. “I don’t know… we still have a lot to take care of before I get too big to do anything.”

“I like how we’re still pretending you’re not going to keep working until you’re actively giving birth.” Jim teased, brow quirked playfully.

Claire snorted, managing around a mouthful of egg: “How does one _passively_ give birth, Jimbo? Please- educate me.”

Jim shook his head, leaning onto the counter as he began to eat his own breakfast. “Really, though. One day isn’t going to hurt us. We’ve more than earned a little time off.”

“I guess you have a point,” Claire allowed and offered him a smile. “Life’s a balance, right?”

“Right,” Jim agreed, returning the smile.

Her gaze dipped down toward his hands and her eyebrows raised as she recognized the spoon he was consuming, mid-bite. “Hey- wait! I think that’s one of mine!”

Jim laughed, leaning out of her reach as she took a swipe at him. “Nuh-uh. This was in the free-game drawer; it’s free game.”

* * *

 

Despite her earlier reservations, Claire was the one leading the way through the tunnels beyond New Trollmarket, horngazle raised high to light the way. Not that Jim's half-troll eyes needed the guidance through the darkness.

“Oh, hey,” Claire suddenly called out, winding around the corner. “What's this doing here?”

Jim came around the bend and found her standing beside a motorcycle, her fingers dancing along the handle bars. She quirked a brow in his direction.

“I didn't think you still rode this.”

Jim shrugged, resting his palm over the seat. “I don't. I moved it out of Trollmarket because, you know. I never have time to use it anymore but I don't want to scrap it either.”

Much like the vespa he'd helped build in high school, the motorcycle had been a project he'd really thrown himself into when they had first began construction on New Trollmarket. It had been a private, secret affair, something he would chip away at whenever he was alone.

Solitude had been a luxury at the time, and something he had been starved of since their departure from Arcadia.

Now it served as a fossil from his late teens, when he had been confused about who his new hybrid self was and who exactly he wanted to become as a person.

It had spawned from a dark place in his life, but it had been involved in the creation of some pretty great memories, all the same.

“Think the Trollhunter will ever ride again?” Claire asked with dramatic infliction, waggling her fingers for effect.

Jim laughed. “Someday. Who knows, maybe I can find a car seat attachment and a couple of little baby helmets.”

“I like the implication that they'll have to share a car seat.” Claire remarked with a grin. She pressed the horngazle to the wall and, with a flourish, drew a perfectly practiced semi-circle.

A portal opened up and they were staring out into the New Jersey Barrens. They had arrived at the tail end of a sunset, when the sun had sunk just low enough into the horizon to not pose a threat.

Jim took Claire's hand and they stepped out into the wilderness. The portal fizzled out behind them as they stepped onto a path leading out through the trees.

They immediately fell into pleasant conversation, surrounded by familiar trees and serene outdoors.

This was their getaway. When they first had been struggling under the weight of their trollhunting responsibilities, they would take frequent trips through those trees. It was one of the few things that helped to keep them sane. And, at the time, offered one of the few opportunities they had to be alone together.

Before Blinky's library had been completed and the heartstone still only stood roughly about twelve feet tall, the three of them- human, half-troll, and elder- had lived together for a time, and still did, in all technicality. Time passed, individual rooms were carved out of the unfinished apartment above the developing library and, before long, it had taken on the form of a significantly more rustic, but very human abode.

With the completion of his library, Blinky had taken to heading up into the apartment overhead less and less and, by way of unspoken agreement, it had become exclusively Jim and Claire's after their entry into adulthood.

“We still haven't even started talking about names,” Jim realized suddenly. His eyes widened as that thought sunk in. “Oh my God, we _still_ don't have any names yet. And we're like halfway through this whole thing.”

Claire was silent for a moment. “I like Mateo.”

“Ok, well, that's one,” Jim allowed, “but we still don't know what we're having.”

“Ok, so we need two boy names and two girl names. We can do this right now, don’t even worry about it,” Claire tapped her chin. “Mateo and…  William.”

“Like, Shakespeare?” Jim grinned.

“Yeah. I think it's fitting, considering we sort of, kinda met through the play back in high school.” She explained with a shrug.

It did seem pretty fitting, he had to admit.

She nudged him playfully. “Ok, now you, _Romeo_.”

“Uh,” he scratched the fur along his jawline thoughtfully. “Emily?”

“That's a cute one,” Claire said with an encouraging nod. “And?”

“Aaaand… Violet. Like the flower.”

Claire puzzled at him. “Why after a flower, specifically?”

Jim gasped. “Did you forget about our first born?”

It took a second for the memory to resurface. “Ooooh, you mean Petunia? The same first born you _blew up_?”

“The very same,” Jim said with a nod and gave the side of her abdomen a gentle poke. “I promise not to blow these two up.”

Claire suddenly stopped, gaze settling on the faded scorch mark splotched across the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Wait a second,” she approached the tree and brushed her finger over the mark. “I think I know…” She trailed off and moved to step off the path and between the surrounding trees.

Curious, Jim trailed after her. She picked her way through the foliage, horngazle raised as she located seemingly randomly scorched trees.

Watching her drift from burned tree to burned tree, Jim came to a realization. “Wait, is this where we chased down that helheeti?”

Claire hummed an affirmative. “Which meeeeans… ah- _ha_!” She pointed to a patch of grass, beaming at him as she said: “And this is where we made the wombmates.”

“No way,” Jim moved to stand behind her and scanned the area. His gaze fell on a set of gouge marks on a nearby tree, set only a couple feet above the ground- where he had knocked his horns. “Oh my God, it totally is.”

He could remember that fight well; the mad dash to try and contain the rogue helheeti, the terror that it was going to cause a forest fire, the rush of adrenaline following its defeat and the… _afterwards_.

“That's crazy,” Claire mused, sweeping the horngazle over the patch of grass, trying to locate any other tell-tale marks or anything left behind. “And we had no idea we'd be here, four months later, about to have _two_ babies.”

Jim snorted. “Not a single clue.”

He was quite for a moment, thoughtful, and Claire looked at him.

“You ok, Jim?” She touched his arm to get his attention.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine,” he assured quickly. “It's just… we're halfway there. It feels like you were telling you were pregnant just yesterday and, today, we're already halfway through it. It's just… insane.”

“Totally insane,” Claire agreed. “I mean, in just a few months we're actually going to meet these tiny little people we didn't even mean to make.”

“It's so… surreal.”

Claire watched him, noting the anxious furrow of his brow and the tension in his shoulders.

“Hey,” she said suddenly and grabbed his hand. He blinked down at her as she raised a hand to point skyward. “Wanna do a little star gazing?”

Jim looked uncertain. “Is that… safe?”

Claire tsked in disapproval. “I'm not made of glass. I think the twins and I can sit in a tree without any need for concern.”

“Ok, fair enough,” Jim said, hands raised in apologetic surrender.

He scooped her up into his arms and crouched down. Branches raced by as he launched them both toward the ideal vantage point- a branch near the top that was stable enough to support their combined weight.

The expanse of tree tops rippled around them, swaying under the force of the crisp wind. Higher up, the air was definitely colder, making the approaching shift in seasons more evident.

The sky overhead, void of the level of light pollution they had back in Arcadia, was vast and open- almost overwhelmingly so.

“You're quiet again,” Claire whispered, resting her hand under his chin and giving an affectionate scratch along his jaw.

He leaned into her touch and sighed.

“Anxious brain. Sorry.” He explained softly.

“What's up?” She said, tone gentle. She was always willing to listen when he had concerns.

“This feels like the first time we've been together- just us- in like a really, _really_ long time.”

“That's because it is,” she answered honestly. “The last kind-of day off we took, we ended up with them,” she added playfully, touching her belly.

It was meant as a joke, but there was some truth to her words.

She saw his ears pivot downward, clinging to the sides of his head.

“Then how _in the world_ are we going to have time to raise a kid- _two_ kids, at that?” Came his near silent question. “I don't want to be an absent father.”The significance of his confession nearly broke her heart. He'd been without a father for most of his life and, much as his mother loved him, she had been forced into a position that required a significant degree of absence on her part too.

“We'll make time.” She responded, with an optimistic confidence he didn't quite share. “Besides, I don't think it'll be all that hard.”

Jim fixed her with a look.

“I mean, ok, it's gonna be _hard_ ,” Claire corrected quickly. “But, with how everyone in Trollmarket has been acting toward me lately, I think, when the time comes, delegating jobs is going to be a lot easier than we think it's going to be. They seem to kind of already be wanting to pull their own weight.

“And, with our families back in Arcadia and I guess the entirety of the Trollmarket trolls, these kids are going to have more extended family members than they're going to know what to do with.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “These kids are going to be so loved its _unreal_.”

Jim huffed and offered her a sheepish half smile, his anxieties not quite satisfied, but he was feeling a little better. “Sorry. This was supposed to a nice day off. Not all heavy.”

Claire coiled her arms around his shoulders and held him tight. Her cheek pressed against his and she looked back out over the treetops.

“I still think it's nice.”  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over the passed week I've been going back and tightening up the writing in the passed chapters. I added a scene here and there, but the gist is still the same. You're only missing very minor things if you don't go back and re-read them, I promise.
> 
> This part is definitely on the short side, but I what I had written was getting waaaaay too long and I had to chop it up /somewhere/.

Claire bit her lip, trying to contain her laughter as she slowly pushed her finger toward Jim’s unprotected ear. It flicked just before she made contact and she quickly stifled an amused snort.

She watched him for a moment, but when his dozing expression remained unchanged, she went for a second prod. This time, accompanying another reflexive ear twitch was a disgruntled rumble.

“Stop,” he mumbled sleepily and she could hear the amused smirk in his voice.

“But it's cute,” Claire giggled. Again, his defensenseless ear flicked away before she could touch it. “Like, how does it know?”

Jim blearily cracked his eyes open and turned his head to look up into her grinning face. “We're supposed to be asleep.”

Claire shrugged, the soft light in their bedroom catching across her bare shoulders. In the darkness, her stark bangs practically glowed. “Bothering you is more fun,” she informed frankly.

Jim grunted, tightening the semi circle he had formed around her.

Claire hooked her elbow over his hip and reclined against him. She grazed her finger nails across the skin beneath his rib cage and felt the ticklish spasm of his abdominal muscles beneath her touch.

The half-troll grumbled in protest, messed hair tickling her thighs as he buried his face into her belly. “This is harassment.” He accused, voice muffled against her skin.

Claire chuckled and brushed her fingers through his scruff. “I promise to make it up to you.”

Catching onto her implication, Jim mumbled something about being “too tired” and was already drifting back off to sleep again.

Or, rather he tried to, until a sudden flicker of movement across Claire's stomach caught them both off guard.

Jim's head popped up off her lap, eyes wide. “What in the _world-_?”

Claire stared back at him, brow furrowed with concern. After a few moments her eyes sparked with a realization.

“What? What's wrong?” Jim asked, bristling as he rose up onto his elbows. “What happened?”

A huge grin lit up across her face and, without answering him, she took his hand. She placed his palm over her modest baby bump and held him tight against her skin.

He waited, heart pounding in his ears. It wasn't long before he felt movement; quick and sudden, somehow both weaker and stronger than he'd expected.

Jim was _floored._

He hadn't been to any of the doctor visits, hadn't heard the tiny, fluttering heartbeats nor seen them squirming on the monitor. The only tangible evidence for the budding existence of their children was a couple of ultrasound photos and Claire's rapidly distending stomach.

But to _feel_ them moving beneath his touch, to _feel_ them being active and restless as they stretched out their little legs-

-That was something else entirely.

“Jim.” Claire called softly. Jim's gaze shot upward to meet her eyes, which were soft with fondness and bright with amusement. She pressed her fingers to his chest. “Breathe.”

Jim gasped, letting go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Claire laughed, reaching up to touch his cheek.

With her thick hair hanging loose and messy around her shoulders and an expression of uncensored glee clear on her face, he couldn't think of a time when she looked more beautiful.

He leaned forward to nestle his forehead against hers and inhaled.

“You're amazing,” he claimed, almost reverent.

“I know,” Claire agreed, confident as always. “You're pretty amazing too.”

His tusks pricked against her skin as he moved to nuzzle into her neck. She laughed, hunching her shoulders ticklishly against his touch when he gave a harmless little nip.

“So much for you being _tired,_ ” she teased as his hands came up to cradle her back.

* * *

 

Nomura was sitting just beyond the entrance to her cave. The changeling didn’t look up from sharpening her weapon, but the swivel of her ears was enough to let Claire know she was aware of her approach.

Claire stopped just a ways in front of her, wincing as she pressed her palm into her lower back to relieve tthe pressure there. “You _could_ live a little closer so I wouldn't have to walk so far,” she called. “But, you know, that's just a suggestion.”

“Noted.” Nomura growled dismissively and raised her blade for inspection. Claire watched her do so, admiring as well how the light shone off of the finely sharpened weapon.

The changeling had chosen her dwelling strategically- separated from the general population just enough to give her privacy from prying eyes and nosy neighbors. Her cave was located just beyond the New Trollmarket outskirts, with a narrow path winding its way along a precipice leading up to its entrance.

She had done very little carving of stone, rather opting to make due with what was already there.

Nomura lowered her weapon toward the whetstone, her eyes, which Claire had once found so piercing and eerie, finally settling on her visitor. “I’m surprised you actually climbed up here.”

Claire shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

“But now you’re,” the changeling pointed her blade tip toward Claire's stomach, “that.”

“Like _that’s_ going to stop me.” Claire flicked her wrist dismissively.

“Maybe it should.” Nomura responded cryptically before returning to her task.

Claire pursed her lips, but offered no retort. She removed her bag and let it drop to the ground at her feet. “My back hurts.” She stated flatly.

Nomura noted her unspoken question but choose not to acknowledge it. Instead, her blade hissed across the whetstone before her.

“You better rest, then,” she responded, deciding to play along. “I’m not carrying you back to Trollmarket.”

“But I have a medical condition.” Claire tried.

“It's not _my_ fault you and the Trollhunter can't control yourselves,” Nomura responded, tone disgusted.

Despite all her centuries living on the surface, Nomura was far more comfortable with trollish aggression than the hormone-driven _activities_ of humans.

Nomura rolled her eyes as Claire made a show of shuffling toward her, despite the fact she wasn't near big enough yet for her ability to move to be _that_ effected. Still holding onto the strap of her bag, she trailed it along the ground behind her.

“How much longer do I have to put up with you waddling around like that?”

“I’ve still got sixteen weeks left of being baby-free- _allegedly_.” Claire stopped beside the changeling and lowered herself to the ground. “You can have this back, by the way,” She said, fishing through her bag and producing a very weathered tome.

Nomura set her weapon aside and accepted the book from her. “You finished this already?”

Claire looked confused. “Already? I’ve had it for months.” Claire rapped her knuckle against the book’s spine, which was easily a good two or three inches thick. “It made for some pretty decent light reading.”

Nomura made an uneasy sound. “I’m not sure what kind of effect this will have on your whelps.”

“Oh, I didn’t actually _do_ any of it,” Claire assured. “I’m been super sparing with all magic, just in general, because I have no idea what it would do to them either. And since _you_ don’t know and Merlin’s literally _never_ around for me to ask him, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Then…?” Nomura quirked her brow inquisitively.

“I just studied it and took notes.” Claire shrugged. She winced, shifting uneasily. “I can revisit it in a few weeks.”

“Sixteen to be exact?”

“Allegedly.”

The changeling opened the book and flipped through it, handling the ancient pages with more care than her sometimes-pupil was familiar with seeing from her.

Somewhere along line, during one of Merlin’s infamous disappearances, Nomura had taken to supplementing Claire’s training. She had explained that her nestmate, Stricklander, had taken to the dark arts more easily than she, but any changeling worth their salt at least knew the basics.

Claire wasn’t sure if Nomura had offered to train her because she saw genuine potential in her, or if the changeling was taking advantage of an opportunity to stick it to the insufferable old wizard.

She liked to think it was a little bit of both.

Claire grunted, straightening her spine suddenly.

“What was that?” Nomura growled, wary.

“I don’t know,” Claire answered. “I’ve had this weird back ache all morning. I thought it would ease up if I sat down for a bit, but it’s still-”

She suddenly yelped, hand automatically flying up to clutch her stomach.

Nomura leapt to her feet and hopped away from her, eyes wide and ears pinned back.

Claire’s eyes were wide with alarm as she looked up at her. “Nomura, I think something’s wrong.” She struggled to rise to her feet and Nomura approached her, grabbed her elbow and pulled her up easily. “Something’s wrong- something doesn’t feel right. I-I need to find Jim.”

Nomura growled. “If this is just you trying to get me to carry you back-”

“Nomura, _please_.”

If this _was_ some trick, the urgency in her voice was remarkably convincing.

In one fluid motion, the changeling picked her up and bolted from the cave.

* * *

 

The nurses at the clinic, wearily apathetic from their long shift, had casually tossed around the term “preterm labor.”

Jim, glamoured to look like the first Joe Schmo he’d spotted on one of Blinky’s books, had tensed the first time he heard it. He could remember reading about it somewhere and, naturally, his thoughts latched onto the worst-case scenario and ran wild.

After the long, anxiety-riddled wait they’d endured in the waiting room, Jim was feeling tense, protective and his hatred for the doctor they’d been landed with was palpable.

Claire, accrediting the doctor’s blunt explanations and borderline rude treatment of the pair of them to pulling long hours at the clinic, tried her best to keep her beloved as calm as she could- despite the growing discomfort from her contractions.

She had heard the first few rumbling notes of a warning growl bubbling from deep within Jim’s chest as the doctor, with zero fan-fare, administered a terbutaline injection. Claire had been quick to deliver a subtle jab with her elbow to his side before anyone had a chance to take note of the very inhuman sound her “totally normal” boyfriend was making.

Several hours of observation later, to make sure she didn’t experience anymore contractions, and they were sent on their way with instructions to make an appointment with Dr.Mason.

“I mean, I had another appointment in a couple weeks anyway,” Claire said, trying to stay optimistic about the situation as she packed her things.

Jim groaned, laying back on their bed with his forearms folded over his eyes. He practically radiated anxious energy, so much so Claire found herself fidgeting uneasily.

Abandoning her bag at the foot of the bed, she walked up to give him a pat on the chest. “It could have been worse, Jim.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed with a humorless chuckle. “You could have given birth stupid early, we could have maybe lost both of the twins and there’s no telling what could have happened if they came out looking _less than human."_

“But none of that happened,” Claire pointed out. “I’m fine, they’re fine-”

“But it _could_ have,” Jim said, sitting up and turning to face her. He rand a hand through his hair, palm swiping along the curve of one of his horns. “That was absolutely _horrifying."_

“Jim,” Claire said firmly, cupping his face between her hands to get him to look at her. “I was scared too. But everything’s _fine_ now.”

She inclined her head, pressing her forehead to his. Jim huffed, shoulders dropping.

“It’s going to be ok.” Claire reassured, brushing her thumbs against his cheeks. “I’m just going for another visit to Dr.Mason.”

Jim sighed. “Maybe you should stay in Arcadia.”

He said it so softly she almost missed it.

Claire blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. She pulled back to look at him. “What?”

“In case something _else_ goes wrong,” he explained, but he didn’t look any happier about the concept than she felt. “I’d feel better if you were closer to  Dr.Mason. It’s way too dangerous for you to have the twins here and _apparently_ they’re in a rush to get out of there, so.”

“But,” Claire started to protest. “But what if you… miss…”

“I don’t want to _miss_ anything,” Jim said, ears drooping. He rested his hands over the curve of her hips and grazed his thumbs along the swell of her stomach. “But I can live with that maybe happening, if it means you three are safer.”

“But you could _miss_ them,” Claire insisted. Cold fear gripped her stomach at the thought; she couldn't imagine giving birth without him there- _didn't_ want to imagine it.

If any new additions were added to their growing little family, he needed to be there for it.

Seeming to sense her distress, one of the twins kicked. Jim must have felt it too, as he looked down toward his hands.

When he looked back up, Claire's eyes were noticeably shinier and it made him feel terrible.

He had always had trouble saying no to those eyes.

She was limp when he pulled her into his lap, any fight she would normally give drained out of her as she realized he was right. It was a good idea; the best idea available to them, given the risk that had presented itself.

They had to think of the twins. Their safety was top priority.

“Klarl thinks we've almost got the gyre figured out,” Jim said, embracing her. “I could end up meeting you over in Arcadia. Hell, if we're quick about it, I could get there _before_ you.”

Claire snorted and swiped at her eyes, feeling silly for crying.

It wasn't as if they hadn't ever had to be apart for extended periods of time; Jim's title as Trollhunter had occasionally forced him out of New Trollmarket from time to time to try and keep peace with neighboring tribes and numerous lessons with Merlin had Claire disappearing for days on end.

But something about this made Claire feel so terrible and sad and helpless.

Maybe it was the exhaustion following the scare they'd had at the clinic, maybe it was the dread of going up to sixteen weeks apart- over sixteen weeks if she was being realistic-

-Or maybe it was the hormones.

Damn hormones.

“I might not miss anything,” Jim said softly, trying some of her earlier optimism on for size. “Maybe these two will hang tight long enough for us to finish the gyre.”

“Maybe,” Claire sniffed, trying to regain some of her usual composure.

“Everything's going to be fine,” Jim pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “It'll all work out.”

“Everything's going to be fine,” Claire agreed. She wiped her eyes. “But _you're_ the one who's going to have to tell the trolls that the first child of New Trollmarket isn't actually going to be born in Trollmarket.”


End file.
